#but like he technically has a kind of human brain
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Huh…Puppycat’s a bisexual king, isn’t he?—
#bee and puppcat lazy in space#bee and puppycat#space outlaw puppycat#space outlaw#lazy in space#bapc puppycat#bapc lazy in space#pretty patrick#space princess#???#bisexual#king#I get it’s kinda weird since he’s..an animal#but like he technically has a kind of human brain#idk man#this show is fucking weird
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Into the Sky of Artificial Stars
Summary: Could a chest that lacks a heartbeat still learn how it would feel? Could the whir of a motor be enough of a substitute?
Word Count: 25k (I will not explain myself)
Tags: Alhaitham x Fem!Reader, Slow burn (oh my), Slow fic (oh boy), SMUT(r18+), NSFW, Researcher!Reader, insomniac!Reader, Android!Alhaitham, Workaholic!Reader, soft!Alhaitham, Modern AU, Android AU, human x android dynamics, Heavy Angst, Fluff, Heavy adult themes, academic trauma, toxic family pressure, toxic academia themes, struggles of poverty and academic inequality, TW: Exploration of grief, death, and guilt, TW: Survivor's guilt and tragedy, exploration of humanity and morality, slight mentions of violence, service top!Alhaitham, test subject to lovers? slightly possessive!Alhaitham? body worship, touch starvation? cunnilingus, he falls hard like a fool, but what is there to catch a fool who tried to reach for an unobtainable star?
Authors Note: This has been in the drafts for a very long time. My first foray into sci-fi kinda? I did my best with jargon and everything, so please forgive any mistakes I've made in regard to the technical stuff. An exploration into an artificial star. Enjoy
Are you just your conscience?
All the collective thoughts, desires, and ideals that congregate in your mind and influence your every action. Do your thoughts define you?
Are those cognitive functions, formed through a mix of instinct, teachings, and life experiences, what differentiates a man from a featherless biped?
If so, then are algorithms, simulations, and data sets interchangeable with what creates cognitive functions? Theoretically, it gives a machine the ability to develop a conscience. It gives a machine the ability to be human.
Perhaps, a sterile lab won’t be the most fitting environment to form such a thing.
What if we clothe the machine, provide a roof over its head in a nice quiet house, and feed its mind with the mundane details of existence? Then, could technology bring a machine over the boundary of humanity?
To engineer a brain, a conscience, a life with bare mortal hands. As if to replicate the gods. To compete with the authority of gods through scientific progression, many warn about the possible repercussions.
However, if to give and take life is deemed sinful to be done by mortal hands, then what made those unseen gods any different?
Regardless, such philosophical ramblings won’t help you in finishing the half-written report in front of you.
Looking past the two years' worth of reports sent already, innumerable papers penned by you within the sleep-deprived confines of the Akademiya. With a doctorate framed proudly on bland walls, that should be proof of your ability to type up a simple conclusion, right?
The weighted taps against a backspace key argue otherwise. Frustration leaves your lips in the form of a sigh as you test out a new string of words. Could these few sentences even be comprehensive of the leap in scientific progress made by mankind?
The shapes of letters merge together, forming incomprehensible blotches of black pixels against the white backdrop. Quickly, your lids shut to offer your eyes some much-needed reprieve from the harsh light of the monitor.
It was quite naive of you to believe subjecting your weary eyes to the punishment of light mode would drive up productivity.
Your fingers remove themselves from the keyboard, perhaps your body’s stubborn protest against sitting at the desk for another minute. Maybe a coffee break is an order.
You shouldn’t be too harsh on yourself, there hasn’t been a precedent for an experiment like this. A collaboration between the prideful Fontainian Research Institute and the arrogant Kshahrewar Darshan, the first of its kind.
Perhaps the real marvel is how the weight of their combined egos hasn’t sunk this project into the depths of abandonment.
With a subtle squeak, your office chair rolls back granting you permission to stand up and stretch your weary limbs. Letting out a slight groan as signs of time made themselves known to your bones. The ramifications of your negligence.
Slow steps pad through the quiet halls, floor boards singing a hymn with your leisurely stride toward the kitchen. As you make your way to the end of the long, empty hallway a silvery hue steals your attention.
Slightly obscured by the oak door frame to your home library stood the culmination of your years of overtime and long nights. A surge of anticipation places a slight weightlessness on your legs.
Approaching the end of the hall where the humble library resides, the oak doorway finally framed him in clear view.
Structure much more nimble and organic than the gardemeks framework, with materials sourced from the finest suppliers. The most advanced software and artificial intelligence capabilities ever developed since the Akasha.
The first and only of his kind: The Android Alhaitham.
The said pinnacle of human ingenuity and knowledge is currently flipping through a paperback book as the sunlight illuminates his synthetic skin.
The bounce light made his silver locks glimmer. As your steps slowed to a stop, he took notice of your presence. A soft snap of pages closing resounds through the passive air as Alhaitham turns his focus to you.
Your gaze ran along the neat spines lining each shelf, a small stack of unsorted books still left by his feet, but this morning there were numerous identical piles littered all over the library.
He seems to not have any issues making progress on his assigned tasks, a great sign.
You note that his button-down was a different color today, a sign that he’s practicing switching to a new set of clothes regularly.
A sign of routine, developing habits, and showing his steady learning of human behavior.
The frustrations from an unfinished report fade into obscurity as the subject of your research continues to observe your form. How easy it is to forget the big picture when you stress over the small details.
With this gentle reminder, a soft curl tugs at the corners of your lips.
Alhaitham repositions his stance, turning his body to face you, you figure he must be anticipating another task from you. Since he seems to be mostly done with his previous one, why not assign a new one?
“Could you brew me a cup of coffee, Alhaitham?” As he processes your request, you inspect his teal eyes, catching the slight glow signaling that his response is ready.
“I could, but unfortunately the interval of opportunity has already passed.” His baritone voice articulates.
A subtle quirk made its debut on your brows as your eyes shifted toward a clock hanging up in the corner of the study, its ticking hands displaying the time: 5:15 p.m.
“Huh… you won’t grant me an extension?” You turn back to him.
“If you have a request then please state it between my working hours of 9:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m., you’re always free to submit again tomorrow.”
He doesn’t budge. An android capable of autonomous training and self-study is different from those gardemeks who only function when given tasks. The ability to develop self-awareness, consciousness, and to think comes with its own caveats.
In Alhaitham’s case, his stubborn nature. Conceivably, he likely reviewed Sumeru’s labor laws and decided that he was entitled to such labor rights as well.
“I work overtime almost every day for your research and development, but you can’t spare me 15 minutes?” Your lips form a pout, but you already predicted his next output.
“Your poor work-life balance is not my responsibility.”
Your prediction was correct.
Another sigh leaves your lips, it’s just one of the trade-offs you must accept. After all, learning to be a human is the reason why he was created. A feat once thought to be unachievable. But he exists, and he’s developed quite a character.
To change the trajectory of this conversation you glance at the book held within his hold.
“Frankenstein by Mary Shelly?” You read the title aloud.
“Yes, the 1831 edition, it’s quite the story.” Alhaitham opens the covers once more.
“Mm, maybe I should be more cautious of what information you come across.” A subtle grin tugging at the corners of your lips as his teal eyes land back on you.
“It’d be a bit of an issue if you were to turn against me from the wrong influences.” Resting your body against the oak doorway as you observe the android process your jest.
“There are safety restrictions already in place to prevent such occurrences, the possibility is near zero. However, if you are still concerned then feel free to upload a list of banned materials for the next version update.”
A huff of a chuckle escapes you as you shift more of your weight against the wooden frame.
“Of course, of course, just remember to place your books back where you found them.” Pushing off the doorway, you allow Alhaitham to continue his unsupervised learning as you amble closer to the kitchen.
The soft clinking of cups and spoons chime through the evening air as you scoop a few ounces of ground coffee into the brewer.
As the water slowly brings itself to a low rumble, you occupy your wait staring out the glass and at the setting sun. The flaming scarlet hues and warmth blend into mellow indigo as the night begins to reveal her stars.
Dusk, when the line between day and night blurs to an indistinguishable mess. Would a singularity also look as luminous as the setting sun? The answer might be closer than ever before.
The reaction to the announcement of an android development project was at first astonishment, that human knowledge had progressed this far. And the secondary reaction that followed like ripples was fear. Fear that humans will soon be replaced by beings of silicon and steel.
That a singularity would signal the end of humanity.
Well, this was always the common reaction to disruptive change. Many cases of public pushback and hysteria against innovations you can reference throughout history. The human reaction to the unknown.
They always gossip and fearmonger about an android domination of all of Teyvat. But have those people ever stopped to consider that the android could simply be too lazy to have such ambitions?
Instead of becoming cruel overlords, they’d rather leave books strewn about as they dock themselves into their charging port.
To learn to be human means to learn human slothfulness too, no? Or maybe Alhaitham’s algorithm just decided to train himself to incorporate it. What a peculiar enigma he is, this android currently residing in your house.
Your thoughts circle back to a certain novel you haven’t touched in years. A work of science fiction written by a genius author barely over the cusp of adulthood.
You wonder how she would’ve described this impending singularity.
A distant toll rang from the depths of a dreamless void, each chime reaching closer and closer until the bright tune devolved into jarring blares. Piercing enough to set your heavy lids into motion.
Just as they peeked open, they flinched back shut from a stray ray that snuck between the gaps of your curtains.
Your leaden body groans at the brightness of the room, the luminosity much greater than when you had originally settled under the covers. Yet, even with your groggy complaints the alarm resting on the nightstand offered no mercy, continuously bellowing its monotone pitch.
With a sharp slap, your world returns to its silence.
Angling the alarm towards you as you creak open one eye, the blurry red pixels slowly merge together to display the time.
Didn’t you have a meeting scheduled for today?
Another groan follows your dreadful discovery and you roll back under the plush blanket. Not much different from a child trying to protect themselves from the grasp of a fictitious monster.
Soft comforters block the morning glow contained behind thick curtains, yet your permission to access a blank serenity was denied. It seems that your quota for sleep has been fulfilled.
Barring you from any excess repose, not that you expected anything less. A monster that torments a young mind might be fictitious, but the realities of capitalistic responsibilities unfortunately aren’t.
Taking in a deep inhale, you prep your body for the next set of dreaded actions with its drowsy limbs. Before it had the chance to protest, you kicked the covers off, ripping away the warm security from your skin.
Ambling down the hall you gradually made your way into the kitchen, there under the morning light sat a steadfast figure whose eyes never left the book in front of him.
“Good Morning.” You initiate the first conversation of the day.
“Congratulations.”
You pause, hand in the midst of rubbing away the tiredness of your eyes. Staring perplexingly at his sudden praise. Alhaitham’s focus remains on his novel even as he answers your unasked question.
“You’ve beat your previous record of how many alarms it takes to get you out of bed, I believe it went off five times this morning.”
A few beats of uninterrupted silence follow the aftermath of his response. A chain broken by a deep sigh which leaves your body.
“It’s far too early for this, Alhaitham.” Your hand goes back into motion, this time attempting to rub away frustration.
“Spare me your sarcasm until after you’ve made me breakfast and a cup of coffee.”
From the glance you took at your clock from earlier, it’s currently well into his operational hours.
“Understood.” Setting the book down, his tall frame makes its way into the kitchen.
Settling down at the lacquered table, your seat grants you a clear view of your android collecting some eggs from the refrigerator. Even as the hands of fatigue beckon your lashes to flutter shut, you refuse to indulge in such luxuries.
You had to watch just in case he decided his book couldn’t wait.
A series of trials and errors already well documented in those weekly reports back to the Akademiya and Institution. A human in training is bound to have some mishaps occur, or more accurately, this android might have different priorities.
One notable case was the time you asked Alhaitham to clean the floors while you attended a conference call. Only to step into puddles of soapy water the moment you leave your office door.
Connecting eyes with teal as he stood in the middle of it all mop in hand. For the time being, you’ve barred him from such tasks.
Although, you wouldn’t be surprised if he made a mess just as an excuse to sit back on the couch with a book. This fickle android of yours. Your third sigh of the day.
–-------------------------------------------------------------
The tranquil afternoon interlude that enveloped the house was interrupted by a sharp chime. Glancing at the numbers displayed on the corner of your screen, it looks like it’s right on schedule.
You had just concluded your monthly conference call, it’d be good to stretch your legs a bit after sitting through a few hours of professional formalities.
Leaving your home office to journey toward the front door, you spot Alhaitham’s frame by the entranceway. His head turns to acknowledge your presence. Passing him to make your way to the front door, you hear him shift closer.
Soon the brilliance of a star pours into the entranceway, illuminating the hall as the door opens.
“Good afternoon, grocery delivery?” The young man on the steps greets, a strain in his polite tone as bags weigh down on his arms.
“Yes, there was a last-minute addition of henna berries, were you able to get those?”
“Yep, they’re in one of these bags.”
“Thank you, sorry for the trouble, I’ll take it from here.” You cast a glance over your shoulders back at a tall form standing idly.
“Please come help with the groceries.”
“Understood.” It took only a few strides for the burden weighing down on the delivery boy, effortlessly hanging them all on his engineered arms without a hint of strain.
“Careful, they’re heavy, mister-” The warning dies at the tip of the young man’s tongue as his wide eye reflects the artificial glow of teal irises.
It’s best to end this trial now, to prevent a commotion or disturbing the delivery boy who isn’t paid enough to be frightened. You could see it in the slight tremble of his agape mouth as his brain processed the thing in front of him.
“Thank you again, please don’t mind him, have a great day.” Before you could hear his response, the door was shut.
A bit rude according to societal norms, but you’re sure a generous gratuity bonus paid on top of the delivery fee is enough to stifle any disgruntlement. Considering his reaction, it looks like your hypothesis remains correct.
The people of Teyvat still need more time to adjust to the existence of androids. Just because science progresses, it doesn’t mean human acknowledgment moves at the same rate.
Turning away from the door, a pair of glass irises connect with yours, a sheen of expectancy just under the brilliant teal hue. Alhaitham stands there with the bags still hanging from his arms.
“If you already know what I’m about to assign you, then you should just take the initiative, Alhaitham.” You huff.
“It’s not a bad habit to wait for any specific instructions.” Came his baritone rebuttal.
“Just take those to the kitchen.”
“Understood.” He pivots away, taking slow steps toward the kitchen.
“Ah, sort them into the fridge and cupboards too, do not just dump them on the counter.” You warn, learning from your previous mistakes.
Seriously, Alhaitham has long evolved past needing step-by-step detailed prompts, thus you suspect it's merely an act of his.
You’ve watched his character develop, his habits form, and his routine take shape. Just where did he learn such behavior? This strange android of yours.
You watch as he carries the numerous bags without a hint of strain. Alhaitham was much better suited for carrying your week’s worth of rations from the market. Unfortunately, he is proprietary technology.
Clearance to allow an android out into the world hasn’t been granted yet.
Not that you were eager to receive it. The logistics of such an event are a nightmare to plan. The protocols needed in emergencies to ensure the safety of civilians and the millions of mora poured into his creation.
There’s always a nonzero chance his system gets overloaded from trying to analyze every blurred face in a crowd. A nonzero chance that he would simply wander beyond the merchants and their fruit stalls. A nonzero chance that the gem implanted between his collarbones could spark curiosity.
Those same curious eyes could catch onto the artificial glow of teal irises, morphing curiosity into terror.
Even in Fontaine where it was more common for machines to walk among crowds, they were always designed to look like machines. Their clockwork pieces are obvious and distinguishable, a design choice to bring comfort to the mortal psyche.
An easy way for a human to differentiate a person and a thing. If that line becomes blurred, then…
With a deep sigh, you reel your thoughts back from their philosophical journey. Regardless, it’d be a problem for the future to handle.
–-------------------------------------------------------------
Soft clacks resound from the keyboard as a new string of words appears on your screen, documenting the events of the day on your laptop as you sit on your sofa.
The soft cushions are a welcomed change from a stiff office chair. Just over the top of your screen, Alhaitham sat across from an adjacent couch. Methodically folding a basket of laundry and sorting them into piles.
An easy enough task for him, but as you watch you make sure to note down the improvements in his motor skills and dexterity. Movements organic and fluid, much like those of a human.
It truly is astonishing just how far technology has progressed, from clockwork pieces and clunky steps to the specimen sitting just a few steps away.
A tall and sturdy frame, well-portioned face with handsome teal irises, and synthetic starlight hair. Features created from the finest equipment and materials, a truly magnificent piece of scientific progress.
Amid your appreciation for his structure, Alhaitham halts all motion, setting down the towel back into the basket. Resulting in your eyebrows creasing together.
“What’s wrong Alhaitham? Did you forget how to fold a towel?”
Alhaitham did not attempt to entertain your jest, so much so, that he simply stared past you. Teal eyes honing in on an object just beyond you, never breaking focus to discern the bewilderment on your face.
Finally relenting, you follow his stare toward a clock, reading the time: 5:00 p.m.
“Seriously? You haven’t finished folding the laundry yet,” you remark in utter exasperation.
The teal glow of his eyes shows that he’s received your remark, yet he doesn’t make an effort to return a verbal response. He chooses instead to simply continue staring at the time as his hands wait by his side in opposition.
Him staring at a clock, you staring at him, a one-sided showdown.
A naughty cat prancing about a countertop where it shouldn’t be could simply be picked up and removed.
A disobedient dog dirtying the couch with its muddy paws could be lured off with the sight of a treat.
But an android? What are you going to do to an android whom you had to tilt your head up to make eye contact with?
This wasn’t a hill you’re willing to die on, thus with a dismissive wave of your hand, you concede. Allowing Alhaitham to do as he pleases, which he graciously does. His form leaves the couch, heading in the predictable direction of the library as a deep sigh leaves you.
This stubborn android of yours, you made sure to document this on today’s report. Just as how it was yesterday, and the day before, and even the day before that.
Hopefully, in the event of an actual android apocalypse, he might show you the same leniency. You couldn’t help but scoff at your ridiculous musings. A machine with nothing but a motor and battery in his chest, would he understand leniency even if you were to code it into him?
Soon his frame comes back into view, a pile of books clutched within his hold, just as you predicted. Shamelessly, he sits in the middle of his unfinished chores while leisurely scanning the pages in front of him.
This fickle, strange, and stubborn android follows the rhythm of his own motor regardless of what protocols you instill.
Yet, as you watch his fingers flip through the worn book and take up space on your couch, a smile develops on your features. A soft curl of your lips, easily obscured by the screen of your laptop.
A fickle, strange, and stubborn android is not too different from a person, one who had a heartbeat.
An android who takes up space on your couch and house, making it a bit less empty than previously. That was good enough.
What made man? Intellect? Innovation? Language?
This was the dilemma assigned to him since the very first time his system powered up in that facility, welcomed into this world by glaring fluorescent lights and the numerous stares of figures in white coats.
A dilemma that follows him even to his current place on a spacious couch.
According to sources pulled from the Akasha and cross-references from numerous printed materials made available to him, many throughout history have been pondering this same conundrum. A philosopher once defined man as featherless bipeds.
However, wouldn’t this make a plucked chicken a man too? A definition so ambiguous a mere student proved the teacher wrong.
Then, is man defined by their flesh? Having skin and bones instead of silicon parts and metal components? To have blood pumped by a heart instead of operating off a battery and motor? Was it biology that defined man?
But if that was the simple truth, then why was Frankenstein’s creation addressed as nothing more than a monster?
From his arms to his legs to his mind, everything which made up that creature was human. He had blood, he had flesh, he had bones. So why was he chased away by flaming torches and pitchforks as a mob screamed ‘monster’? Why was a creature made from human flesh not human?
His train of thought halts as a familiar set of steps patter against the floor. Automatically, his sights hone in at the corner of a wall even before your face reveals itself from behind it.
Teal-colored eyes refocus to catch the subtle perk of your eyebrows and widened eyes. An expression of surprise he analyzes, his immediate focus must have caught you off guard.
Did you have some other test outlined for him? Did you need to collect more data from earlier today? Another household task perhaps?
How unfortunate, the hour on the clock read half past 8 p.m. Have you not learned from your tardiness the week prior?
“If you have a request, then please wait until 9 a.m. tomorrow when I’m within my business hours.”
Even with the wall partially obscuring your form, the restrained giggle through lips fighting back a grin was picked up by his audio system.
“No, no, there’s no more tasks for today.”
As your gaze centers on him, he takes note of the refractions of fluorescent lights along your irises.
“Then is there something you’d like to discuss?” He prompts.
“Mm… no, not right now.”
His stone-faced stare was enough of a response, judging by the smile spreading across your features.
“I just felt like checking up on you, after all, you are the most proprietary piece of technology at the moment.”
At times like these, Alhaitham felt that the audio cue of a sigh was the most effective communication out of all the languages created by man. Muffed chuckles accompany it.
“I’ll leave you be then.”
The floorboards trill under your steps as you amble towards the kitchen. Alhaitham returns to the last few pages still left open on his lap.
Small tinkering from beyond the living room serves as an ambient tune. The swift opening and closing of a refrigerator door. A harsh pull on a microwave door is contrasted by the bright beeps of buttons, leading to a low hum.
He hypothesizes there to be some leftovers spinning around.
After the microwave sang its concluding chimes, the clatter of a plate follows a firm tug. A drawer rattles open, metal clinking against metal as you sift around for the right utensil. The drawer rattles again as it closes.
Rhythmic footsteps take center stage as they trail back down an empty hall, Alhaitham waits to hear the resounding click of a door returning to its frame. Just as the final echo of the click sounds out through the air he places the finished novel on the coffee table.
Leaving the comfort of the cushions, he makes his way to the kitchen to access the aftermath. A microwave door left wide open, a drawer only halfway closed, and of course another dirty coffee mug in the sink.
Returning the microwave and drawer to their rightful states, his teal eyes count the pile of cups sitting since this morning. A collection that grew throughout the day.
Alhaitham looks up in the direction of your office. A soft glow leaked out from under the gap of the door, bleeding light into the dim hall. His systems identify the audible taps of a keyboard and the occasional shift of an office chair. He deduces that you were working overtime again.
He found it a bit ironic at times. A body of mechanical components has no qualms about lounging on a sofa. But you, a creature of flesh and blood, refuse to submit to the allure of rest. Although, Alhaitham wouldn’t find it too implausible that coffee ran through those veins of yours instead.
Repetitive clacks of keys and mouse clicks play a melody he had heard ever since the first day he opened his eyes.
A tune that accompanies the rhythm of his steps and motions when he goes about his tasks as you document them.
A lullaby that plays after his routine tasks as he heads back to his charging port when you log a daily report.
An accompaniment to the silent moon and her stars as you stay up at a desk.
Needing to reach the next exit criteria. Needing to collect the next set of data. Needing to submit the next report.
Would it be because a body of flesh has agency? With cells in a losing race against time, was there something you wanted to attain within your mortal hands from this research before the race ended?
Or did you just want to fill the vacant lull of this house with those little taps of a keyboard?
Regardless, it’s not within his capacity to disturb your work. Thus all he could do was roll up his sleeves, turn on the running water, and pick up a sponge. Scrubbing the cups with warm soapy water, imitating the motions you’ve shown him before, until the dried stains vanish.
If it’s not featherlessness, if it’s not bipedalism, and if it’s not flesh… then could it just be agency that made him different from you?
Maybe he’ll ask you another day, placing the cups into the dish rack.
Sorting and organizational tasks are his strong suit, in other words, he’s very good at completing easy jobs. Leaving the more… tedious chores to you.
A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you rest on the handle of the broom. The hallway between your office and the bedrooms is the last section that needs to be swept.
Alhaitham was likely back in his place on the couch, book in hand as he lounged around. Weren’t androids created in hopes of making life easier?
So much for that, you internally huffed, repositioning your grip on the broom. A soft but bright clink catches your attention. Glancing down, you quickly discover the source. A ring wrapped around your finger.
Kept on your finger for so long, it’s become almost an extension of yourself, this keepsake piece of jewelry.
Abandoning the broom against a wall, your other hand fiddles with the gold band. A frown forms upon your lips when a faint scratch shows itself on the gold surface
Gingerly, you remove the ring, pinching it between your fingers as you hold it up to the light, examining the damage closer. The shine of its once-polished surface was dulled by trivial scuffs and dents, damaged by the signs of time.
Regrettably, it seems you’ve been neglecting it as well.
So much so, that the ring felt compelled to remove itself from your grasp in protest. Slipping out of your tender hold, which propels you into motion, graceless attempts at catching the small piece of jewelry to no avail.
It soon collides with the wooden floor as a chime rings out, still, gravity didn’t buy you enough time to catch the evasive gem. For it then decides to run under the gap of a door, disappearing from your sight. Leaving you there in defeat.
Taking a deep inhale, holding it for a few seconds, you release the air in your lungs. Returning your gaze up from the wood grain, you stare at the obstacle in front of you: a mere door.
Its brass knob gleams as if to taunt you, daring you to open it, to face what lay beyond. Slowly, you release your clenched fingers, setting your hand back into motion. You’re far too grown to be scared of a room in your own home, especially when you know what is behind it.
Its hinges ring out in surprise, it’s been a while since they were opened. The daunting door opens up to reveal a lackluster collection of old furniture, picture frames, and various other assortment of items.
Their forms all covered by plain sheets thrown over them, silhouettes, outlined like ghost. A slight tickle appears in your nose from the layers of dust you disturbed.
A poor, unfortunate room you’ve designated as storage, where items go to be neglected. You were busy enough with work as it is.
To avoid seeing the reminders of responsibilities you’ve been pushing off, you’d rather throw them behind a door. Out of your sight, out of your mind.
The sooner you find that ring, the sooner you can turn a blind eye to the various items you’ve long abandoned yet refused to let go of. Amongst the dull dust and sheets, it wasn’t very hard to spot the golden glimmer from peaking through.
Trudging towards the mischievous ring, you kneel to finally catch it within your hand. Such a troublesome thing, you chide as you stand back up. Bracing your other hand on the nearest sheet-covered surface, only for it to come into contact with an odd object.
Startled, you instinctively hold onto both the ring and the odd object as you jolt back up. Glancing down at your hands, your eyes finally identify the object.
A collection of tiny planets and stars dangling from thin strings glimmered with the soft light creeping in from the afternoon sun. A soft smile made its way to your lips.
How silly it was that a toy made to entertain young infants had you so enraptured. You bought it on a whim, then tossed it into the depths of a dust-covered room. And yet it’s now back in your hands. Perhaps the beckoning of the stars still calls for you.
A part of you wonders if it was your fascination with the night sky that caused sleep to evade you. Sitting up on a mattress well past bedtime to gaze out to the vast ocean of dazzling and blinking lights that dotted against a navy backdrop. While the pristine radiance of the moon reflected off your irises.
Or did your fascination develop because it was always the moon and her stars that silently accompanied your long nights?
Gentle lights who lent you their well wishes and encouragement as you anguished through assignments and exams.
What an honor it was for you to be able to witness her beauty so often. It was a pity that some, who disregarded her grace in favor of dreams, weren’t able to experience the brilliance of a starry night.
Maybe your parents fell in the category of the majority. Maybe that’s why they couldn’t even fathom such a thing.
A past conversation over an old wooden table started in your mind before you could muster the strength to push it back.
–----
“C’mon, eat, eat.” Your mother places a hearty serving of Biryani in front of you.
The old kitchen table groaned under the weight of the spread of dishes on its surface. To call it anything short of a feast would be a lie. The walls of the modest home are filled with a variety of rich aromas and spices.
“You have to eat to study harder, don’t think just because you made it into the Akademiya you can take it easy now.” Your father remarked.
“I wouldn’t dare dream of it.” You picked up your fork.
Letting out a chuckle, he pats your back as a rare smile graced his stern face. Your mother’s face mirrored the same radiance, the beaming glow of pride. For you, their daughter, their only child, and only hope had been accepted into the Akademiya.
The most prestigious university of all of Sumeru and Teyvat, with millions competing for those few spots each and every year. Only the best of the best, only those who outshone the rest, and only those gifted and blessed would ever be admitted.
Yet, you were sent a letter from the oh-so-grand institution.
A child from a town far away in the shadows of the grand Akademiya was accepted.
What were the odds of that? For a child whose own parents never got the opportunity for higher education to become the first to go off to university? The cause of this celebratory feast.
The warm Spring breeze contributed to the sweetness of this small moment in time, as plates were passed and glasses clanked.
All those scattered notes, cramped hands, and revisions have rewarded you with the golden brilliance of sunrise after endlessly long nights.
A smile crept up the corners of your lips. A light has finally appeared to illuminate this trending path you’ve climbed.
Your father washed down his previous bite with a sip from his cup, placing it down before he began his next question:
“Have you decided on which Darshan to go into?”
The sweet breeze turns into a chill down your spine as your fork halts its motion. The dilemma you have been dreading has finally arrived at the kitchen table.
You had to memorize every mathematical formula. You had to pinpoint every detail in a historical timeline. You had to know every syntax of a sentence. You had to understand the molecular structures of life.
A child had to learn everything, and now they had to pick something to learn. How would the child know? The child only knew how to study.
“Amurta? Spantamad? Oh, what about Kshahrewar? I heard that it was also good.” Your mother chimed in.
“Amurta?” Your father scoffed a bit.
“Dear, as if this tuition isn’t expensive enough, think of how much med school will cost.”
“Oh I know, I know, but you know how well doctors get paid! I heard those labs also give a decent salary.” Your mother reasons.
“Ah, but it takes too long. Engineering isn’t half bad either, there’s been a demand for more engineers recently.” Your father takes another sip of his drink.
“Oh, but it’s not up to us,” she turned to face you.
“It’s up for our little scholar now isn’t it?”
A paradoxical question, because your options were already decided for you from the very start.
Carefully selected paths were already laid out before you as your parents watched on with expecting eyes, waiting for your foot to take a step on the path they wanted most.
Poking at a stray grain of rice on your plate, you gather up the scattered pieces of courage. You were a child who only knew how to study, yet, a child is still susceptible to dreams, no?
“I have thought about it.” You began.
“And?” Your mother couldn’t help but nudge you to continue.
“I was thinking about Rtawahist,” you confessed.
It was as if even the sweet Spring air wanted to escape the now-still walls, leaving dread to fill the void it had left. No dishes were passed, no utensils rattled, and no cups clinked. Just bewildered stares you couldn’t bring yourself to answer.
“Rtawahist? As in the school that looks at the sky?” Your father’s face had returned to its stern default.
“Astronomy? Yes, that’s the Darshan that studies Astronomy.” Your eyes didn’t dare leave your plate.
Among the options selected by them from their perceptions of future opportunities and prestige for you. You dare interject with one of your own.
A deep sigh sealed your fate.
“Astronomy? You want to study Astronomy? And get what job?”
The pierce from your father’s harsh tone made you flinch, even though you expected it.
“You can look at the stars for free, why would I pay to send you to school to study something so useless?”
“There are jobs for Astronomy.” You reasoned.
“Like what?” His finger drummed against the wood.
“Like-”
You made the mistake of looking up from your plate, the fragile wisps of courage dissipated like smoke the moment you did. All the arguments and rebuttals you had prepared vanished along with it. The frown that pulled down your father’s face and the scrunched brow concern of your mother’s were enough to snuff out your pitiful rebellion.
“Go on.” He challenged.
“...”
“That’s what I thought.” Your father snatched up his cup.
Your focus retreated back to your plate, recentering on the grains of rice you pushed around with the ends of a fork. A motion that continued until another hand stopped yours.
“Little one…” Your mother began.
Her thumb traced over your fidgeting hand, a touch which comforted yet scorned you all at once.
“You know that lady who lived down the street? Her son got a career working with computers and now they live in a big house, doesn’t that sound nice?”
You hummed.
“Kshahrewar isn’t so bad, right? Just a few years and then you can get a good job.”
Yes, she had spelled out the purpose of your studies like red-inked corrections on a test. It was how it always was, why did you think it would change now?
Having to prove you deserved the food on the plate in front of you.
Having to bring home top grades to prove all those books and materials were worth it.
Having to get a job that could break this cycle your parents were trapped in. How else would you be able to pay them back?
It was their mora, earned from long hours and labor, that fed you, clothed you, and sheltered you. They made your world with their calloused hands. It was their justification to command it as well. You were their only child, their only investment.
This was the dilemma imposed upon you.
–----
Your fingers clench around the childish imitation of the night sky, running the plastic surfaces under your mindless touch. Thoughts still light years away in the recesses of your memories.
How silly, for someone who loved the planet and the stars so much how did you forget that one fascinating detail? Planets orbit a sun because of gravity.
It was the force of a greater mass that commanded the lesser, it was what kept a planet going round and round within its grasp. It was the gravity of the sun that gave a planet a direction, a path to follow, a purpose even.
Perhaps it’s because the sun knew what was best for its little planet.
It was the diplomas framed nicely on a wall that granted you a secure job, it was your cushy job that permitted you to purchase this cushy home.
Your parents planned this out long ago, thus you merely just followed.
However, when the sun disappears, when the central mass that gave a small planet a purpose disappears, what would the little planet do?
Drifting endlessly in a vacuum of nothingness, with no direction, no path, no light. No day or night and an endless Winter, would it be as if the world stopped spinning.
That little planet would be no different than a cold lump of rock in a vast emptiness.
A sharp creak pierces through the tormentful quietude, a chirr that reels your thoughts back to a dusty room. Head instinctively following the direction of the noise, you fixate on the doorway.
Catching the diffused afternoon sun glimmering in silver locks reminiscent of starlight.
Alhaitham stands silently at the threshold of the door, its frame perfectly centering him as his teal eyes analyze you. Not a single engineered limb crossed the boundary of the dusty room. Just as it was defined in a set of restrictions implemented into his system by you.
As evidenced by his unintentional disregard for his environment, the floorboards bearing witness to his careless execution of chores, you restricted him from this decrepit room.
Although all it contains is a chaotic collection of trinkets and keepsakes, the dust-coating provides them with a blanket of security. You saw no reason to change it.
A telling teal glow blinks momentarily before Alhaitham breaks the lull.
“Are you uncomfortable anywhere?”
It was just now that you noticed the wet trails rolling down your cheeks. Wiping away the cooling dampness on your skin, you confirmed the presence of tears. Your senses took their time returning from their escapade.
Alhaitham remains in his spot, patiently awaiting your next response. How embarrassing it is, to be seen in such a state by a being who could shed no tears. Quickly, you wipe away the trails on your other cheek.
“I’m fine, just lost in thought for a moment.” Swiftly you place the toy down.
A smooth weight encased in the palm of your hand reminds you of the ring, the item that lured you into this dusty room.
Perhaps it should be best to have let it remain undisturbed on your finger. It’s a common wives’ tale that keepsakes ward off bad omens.
“Is that truly all?” He made a no move, his eyes rescanning the environment as if unconvinced by your answer.
You wonder if it’s because of some protocol or conditional in his software. Safety measures set in place during this test of whether an artificial being could live in harmony with mortals.
However, as you gaze upon your magnum opus the specifics of programming and software fade into irrelevancy. Trailing your eyes up from his teal irises to his starlight silver trusses that glimmered in the soft light, revealing a hint of mint. It took you a while to find that exact shade during his manufacturing stage.
There’s always a chance that a drifting planet could be caught in the orbital pull of another. Whether it be man-made or not didn’t matter.
As long as it was of a significant mass its gravity should be enough to pull a lonely planet from its aimless wanderings. It can set the stray planet into a new orbit, giving it a new path.
A small lump of rock could find a new star to center around.
“Yes, I’ll be fine.”
You will be fine. Slowly, and with one step after another, you will be fine one day.
The typical 24-hour day for a working adult can be broken down into a set schedule. Waking up at around 8 a.m. to wash one’s face and brush their teeth as they make themselves presentable for work. Followed by a light breakfast or a cup of coffee before.
Some then start their commute to work or jump onto their desktop to clock in around 9 a.m. to begin their work. In the middle of their shift, usually around noon, they are granted a one-hour lunch break, after that they work until 5 p.m. when they finish their work.
Coming back home to enjoy dinner around 7 p.m. followed by an hour or two of leisure before a bedtime routine begins. Washing the day's influences off oneself, brushing their teeth, and changing into comfortable attire.
If they want to get a restful 8 hours of sleep they cannot go to bed any later than 10:45 p.m. to account for the 15-minute downtime to allow the body to enter the sleeping state.
This cycle then resets and repeats just as the sky cycles through the sun and moon. A typical and average reality for most adults in Sumeru. Well, from the data he pulled from the Akasha, this was the typical day for the average working civilian.
It just so happens that you’re a stray data point skewing the graph.
If he were to estimate your bedtimes from the activity of your desktop and laptop, it would be a chaotic set of timestamps ranging from 2 a.m. to 5 a.m., sometimes the activity on your devices never ceased. An indication of what is referred to as an ‘all-nighter’.
Behavior that might be acceptable for those attending the Akademiya, but certainly not for a working adult.
At this moment, Alhaitham stood in the hall just a few steps away from your bedroom door. His frame remained motionless to avoid disturbing the floorboards beneath him.
Taking into account your device’s activities, Alhaitham estimates your bedtime was 4: 45 a.m. this morning. Given how your alarm is set to around 8 a.m., amounting to about 3 hours of sleep.
Not even half of the recommended time by Sumeru’s health administration.
By all means, Alhaitham finds it confounding how you’re still able to perform so efficiently at your job, managing both the Insitute and Akademiya while operating on a few morsels of sleep.
He wonders if that was the reason why you were selected as the personnel who’s facilitating his learning.
Perhaps, they hoped he’d emulate your work ethic and efficiency. How unfortunate, his self-learning pivoted him away from such conduct.
As he stands observing the woodgrain of your door, Alhaitham finds himself at a crossroads. It’s not within his capacity to interfere, conditionals coded into his software to prevent him from disrupting your privacy.
Laws mandating the privacy of employees and civilians alike.
Simultaneously, there are protocols instilled in him that instruct him to prevent harm from befalling you.
A contradiction. Something that would cause a regular system to return an error as it fails to satisfy one conditional while trying to work within the bounds of another.
Chronic sleep loss results in an increased risk of heart attacks, strokes, and hypertension.
Long-term sleep loss also results in impaired memory and concentration, although it’s not affecting your productivity now, it doesn’t mean it won’t decline soon.
These statistics were all provided by Sumeru’s health administration.
The effects on the brain are quite severe as well, with increased feelings of stress, anxiety, and depression.
A quiet afternoon scene replays, in a dust-covered room, where he found you staring off at nothing as silent rivulets rolled down your cheeks.
That memory stored within his RAM was enough for Alhaitham to come to his conclusion.
Alhaitham must act on his own will and deal with anything that appears harmful in his eyes.
To allow you to continue your destructive routine which is proving to be detrimental to your health would be inadvertently allowing harm to befall you. Thus, he decides one conditional must override another.
Careful to prevent the hinges of your bedroom door from trilling, Alhaitham enters. Analyzing the shape outlined by messy layers of blankets draped over your figure, you must still be in the depths of slumber.
There are about 15 minutes before your first alarm is set to go off, since your commute was a simple walk to your home office, you had the flexibility to sleep through a few grating beeps.
This habit could use a few improvements. He turns his focus to the thick curtains hiding the room away from the greetings of a morning star.
Sunlight sends a signal to the pituitary gland, calling to suppress melatonin production and increase cortisol production and serotonin.
A natural cue for your body to start, to allow the bright rays to touch your skin would also be good for vitamin production too.
With a simple tug, the thick drapes were pulled away, granting the rays of the sun to enter and illuminate the still room.
Your body instinctively retreats deeper under the covers, a clear sign that the light is doing its job. He’ll leave the rest up to the alarm impatiently waiting to belt out its chorus of pitches. Just like the shadows slipping away, he exits just as quietly.
It took only two alarms to get you out of bed and ambling down the hall toward the kitchen. A 60% decrease from when the curtains were shut, however, more trials are needed to conclusively establish a pattern.
His teal gaze follows you as you approach the kitchen. Hands rubbing at your eyes.
“Why is it so bright?” Your words were groggy.
“It’s morning,” he answers.
An unamused glare replaces the fatigue in your expression, Alhaitham deems his response satisfactory.
After a deep sigh, you shut your eyes again, still trying to adjust to the brightness surrounding you, hands returning to rub at your eyelids.
Excessive rubbing of the eyes isn’t good for them, he notes. However, before he could address it another prompt from you took priority.
“Did I leave my curtains open last night?” You asked yourself.
“Coffee?” He interjects.
Glancing back up at him, you paused for a moment as your groggy mind remembered why you traversed to the kitchen in the first place, diverting your attention away from mysteriously moving drapes.
“Yes, please make me a cup, Alhaitham.”
“Understood.”
The android turns toward the marble countertop, preparing the coffee grounds into the machine as you sit at your place at the table.
One day isn’t enough to correct a bad habit, but over time, bit by bit, your schedule will fall into a new rhythm.
–-------------------------------------------------------------
The cheerful doorbell ring interrupts Alhaitham amidst reorganizing the books on a shelf. Right on schedule.
From just down the hall he hears the knob of your office door turn as it opens, followed by a few cautious steps as you venture closer to the front door. As you pass the doorway of the library, Alhaitham observes the furrow between your brow on your perplexed face.
“Is there someone at the door?” You turn to him.
Another ring followed by a few gentle knocks answers your question for him as your head snaps back into the direction of the noise. Crime in this suburban neighborhood is very low, but he does understand why you’d want to be careful.
Perhaps, he should accompany you to ease your nerves over the sudden ring from the door.
With an android just behind you, you had finally mustered up the courage to answer the daunting door under his teal supervision.
“Hello, delivery from Lambad’s Tavern, paid online.”
“Huh?-”
“One order of Minty Bean Soup, one order of butter chicken, and one rose custard?” The delivery man interrupts your confusion as he lists off your entrees.
“Yes…” you reply as you cast a glance back at an idle android.
The entrees listed were all dishes you asked him to make you for lunch a few hours earlier. Judging by the suspicion upon your furrowed brows, he could tell that you noticed as well. However, with a delivery man holding out the takeout bag on the front steps. It’d be rude to just have him remain there, no?
“Enjoy your meal!” He announces as he hands over the bag into your arms.
“Yes, thank you.” You close the door, spinning around almost instantly to confront the android with the bag still in hand.
“Did you order this?”
“Yes.”
“Again? I asked you to make food, not order it,” you tsk.
“I did it to optimize my time.” Crossing his arms in front of his chest.
“All you have to do is heat up the frozen meals.”
“Then according to protocol, I’d have to stay in the kitchen to watch over the oven and stove, not to mention the dishes I’d have to wash afterward. So ordering takeout would save time as well as not prevent me from my task of organizing-”
“Okay, okay. I get it.” You concede with a sigh.
Taking a few steps past him towards the direction of the kitchen before you pause midstep to turn back to him.
“Do not use your funds to order weird things off the internet.” You warn before promptly continuing on your way to have your late lunch.
“Understood.”
Just as he suspected, there isn’t a problem that can’t be helped with a bit of mora. If Alhaitham were to follow your request as you instructed, he knew that the reheated meal would turn cold as it sits abandoned on the kitchen table.
Even when he informs you of his task’s completion, you’d push back your lunchtime until you needed another dose of caffeine.
However, a simple ring of a doorbell could do what he can’t. Drawing your attention and body away from the confines of your desk. An efficient reminder to have your meals at a regular time if he says so himself.
Besides, fresh ingredients are better than frozen meals in terms of nutrients.
–-------------------------------------------------------------
The sun had long retreated into a navy blanket of the night, allowing the moon to take its place in the sky. Serene beauty watching over the nighttime bustle of Sumeru city slowly peters out, and many return to their homes at the beck and call of slumber.
Alhaitham settled himself upon his spot on the couch, a lamp just off to the side illuminating the pages of his book softly. The quiet lull of the living room periodically broken by the crisp turn of a page.
The typical rhythm that resonates through the house around this hour. His acute senses pick up a frustrated pair of steps pattering closer.
Ah, yes a new accompaniment has jumped this evening's tempo.
“Is the router having issues again?” You groan as your frame appears from around the corner.
Casting a halfhearted glance off to where said device sat on a side table, his teal eyes return to his book.
“The light shows that it’s online.”
“Then why is it taking forever to upload a simple file? It’s been five minutes and it’s not even halfway done.” You took quick strides past his idle frame.
Crouching down to be at eye level with the device in question. Unplugging the power cord from its back and then sticking it back. Eyes studying the blinking lights as the router reboots and reconnects to the internet.
Pulling out your phone, you sigh as you try to load up a webpage only to be met by a spinning circle of contemplation.
“Network providers tend to have slowdowns this late at night, some say it's due to bandwidth congestion while others argue that they do it to cut costs,” Alhaitham states, teal eyes honed in onto the text as to avoid your pouting glare.
“Very helpful, Alhaitham.” Another sigh leaves you as you stand back up.
He spoke the technical truth, those companies do tend to slow down their networks at night to save on some operational costs.
However, in this case, it was the former that was causing your device’s screens to perpetually stay in loading. Activities such as streaming videos, music, or downloading files take up the most bandwidth.
Alhaitham simply wanted to download some digital copies of recent scientific journals, and maybe a few songs here and there as well. All done simultaneously which led to some congestion.
How unfortunate.
“This has been happening for the past month now, I should call the network provider, it’s driving me up a wall.” Another groan of frustration.
His teal eyes follow your figure from behind the tops of his book, watching you rub your temples as if to expel the exasperation from your body with each mumble that leaves your lips.
“The internet’s so slow I can’t even connect to the Akasha’s databases, that file is still uploading, what should I do in the meantime?”
His hearing was able to pick up each syllable uttered from under your exhausted breath. He shifts his focus momentarily toward the clock just across the room, reading: 10:00 p.m. Since you asked, it’s only right that he responds with his input.
“It’s an issue beyond your control, the best option to utilize your time at this moment would be to get an adequate amount of rest.”
This time it was your turn to respond to him with a deadpan stare, clearly unamused by his suggestion.
“I want to analyze a few more datasets.”
“Missing a few hours of overtime won’t have any determinate effects on your productivity or livelihood.”
“This is for the sake of your development, Alhaitham.” You sigh as if your statement would mystically change his rationale.
“The short-term gratification you’ll get from sacrificing your rest for a few revelations isn’t worth the long-term ramifications of your health.” He bluntly discloses.
Silence fills the room once more, but something odd seems to have mingled with the serenity of the air. This strange inclusion prompts Alhaitham to finally turn away from the pages, connecting his gaze with yours.
“Was my response unsatisfactory?” He studies your expression, and rather than furrowed brows, he finds a soft roundness to your eyes.
Him staring at you, you staring at him. A scene that continued for a few beats more before you were the first to break the stalemate.
“No, not at all… it’s just very reminiscent of something I’ve heard before…” You turn away as his gaze follows.
A few slow strides take you back to the corner, figure just about to disappear into the shadows engulfing the halls before you abruptly turn around.
“Goodnight, Alhaitham.”
“Goodnight.” He mirrors.
Alhaitham marks today as another successful trail of correcting a bad routine.
–-------------------------------------------------------------
Adequate amounts of sunlight, regular meals, and coffee grounds mysteriously find themselves placed on the highest shelf in the cabinets. All the factors were in place to regulate a disastrous sleep schedule.
Yet when Alhaitham checks your device activity, the data points remain scattered about the twilight hours of the morning. A true paradox.
Amongst the Summer afternoon rays seeping in through the windows, Alhaitham was tasked with tidying up the kitchen. An obscure cabinet in a corner was the last section before he could deem the request complete.
There wasn’t anything in particular about the cabinet, it’s space housing an assortment of various vitamins. That was until his hand brushed against a plastic container which didn’t conform to the typical shape of vitamin bottles.
Grasping it within his hand, he pulls the irregular bottle out from the murky depths of a cabinet and out into the sunlight where its identity unravels: a prescription bottle.
Barbiturates sedatives, colloquially referred to as sleeping pills, are used in treatments for insomnia.
It looks like Alhaitham has stumbled upon the answer to the paradox printed on the faded label of a neglected bottle.
Frankly, this revelation wasn’t all that surprising. He had long suspected it from the symptoms and behaviors you display daily. But it’s always good to support a hypothesis with evidence.
Studying the container in his hand further, his gaze narrows as it hones in a corner of the label. In particular, the date printed along it. This bottle expired two years ago.
It’s recommended that every civilian visits the Bimarstan annually for a checkup, in a nation where healthcare is free and accessible, this typically isn’t an issue.
Once more, you stood alone as a data point outside of the cluster.
Stepping into the living room, he finds you tinkering with the network router again. A few more steps and then he was by your side.
“When was your last medical check-up?” Cycling through his memory, Alhaitham failed to recall the last time you had a medical assessment.
Your body halts momentarily, before glancing up at his beryl eyes.
“I’m relatively healthy, there’s no reason for an assessment.”
“The Department of Health recommends annual checkups at the very least.”
“I don’t need to go to the Bimarstan,” you declare.
A weight pulled down at the corners of his lips, creating what is called a frown. An expression he observed many times upon your lips whenever you label him as ‘stubborn’. He might finally grasp why you do such a thing.
Stubbornness isn’t such a good trait when you’re on the other side of it. Fortunately, he anticipated this.
“In accordance with the law, you do.” The contents of the plastic bottle rattle as he reveals it, drawing your gaze toward it.
“The regulation behind your prescription requires that all expired medication be brought back to the Bimarstan for proper disposal.” Denunciation behind his glass irises.
Lips pressing into a thin line, you advert your eyes back to the blinking router in front of you. Each second of silence announces your defeat.
Human actions are limited by a set of laws and they must operate within the bounds, not too different from restrictions imposed on machines.
The consequences looming just a step away discourage most mortals from crossing the threshold.
“I’ll schedule an appointment for noon next week, making use of your saved paid time off is recommended, does that work?” He prompts.
“Alright.”
A weight is alleviated from his lips, triggering the corners to curl upwards. A common response to the accomplishment of a challenge, he understands now why a mortal body does it.
Perhaps a doctor's visit has been long overdue, foggy recollections of if the curtains were shut the night before and if a bag of coffee was accidentally misplaced. Poor memory is one of the repercussions of sleep deprivation, you’re aware of this fact.
Healthcare in Sumeru is highly accredited for its accessibility and quality, the Bimarstan being the standard many hospitals around Teyvat strive to be. To have such a thing so accessible to you, it’s baffling to many how you failed to utilize such privilege.
You had your reasons.
Many of these prominent doctors and diligent nurses were once classmates. A few vaguely familiar faces from across a lecture hall of some general course.
Faces you’ve passed slumped over textbooks and piles of notes in the late hours of the House of Daena, their dark circles matching yours.
Faces that graduated alongside you as celebratory cheers rang out with caps littering the air.
It’d be strange to meet someone you attended the Akademiya with once again in an examination room.
After their years of medical school and surviving residency, you’re certain they’re more than qualified at their jobs. However, it doesn’t change the course of averted eyes and superficial pleasantries.
You breathe out a deep sigh as the receptionist calls out for you, informing you that you could head down to a private room.
Leaving your seat in the waiting room, you do as the receptionist instructs, exiting the lively environment into a placid hallway. The receptionist’s face didn’t evoke any familiarity, nor did the doctor’s name listed on your appointment.
Many of these prominent doctors and diligent nurses were once classmates, but not all.
Candidly, there’s only one classmate who you’d avert paths with within this establishment. In a hospital as large as the Bimarstan, the average number of staff ranges from around 5,000.
The odds of encountering a particular face out of a pool of thousands is nonzero.
A polite knock draws you from your thoughts, your eyes travel toward the door of the private room you entered not too long ago as the handle slowly turns. Thick oak swinging ajar to reveal the figure on the other side.
“Good afternoon, I’m Dr. Rana, I’ll be taking care of you today.”
You return her greeting with a courteous smile and nod, statistics in your favor, the odds were nonzero but still a minuscule likelihood.
The checkup was rather uneventful, a few questions were asked as she pulled up your medical records. You pulled out the expired medication for her to examine and deal with.
Vitals checked and documented as the appointment drew to a close, a notepad and pen in her hands as she turned to you.
“Overall your health seems fine, although…” she trails off.
You could feel the weight of her stare upon the discoloration ever-present under your eyes, no layer of concealer to cover them. You could already guess her next sentence.
“Would you like a refill of your prescription?”
“No, it’s fine.” It’d just be another bottle to be neglected in the back of a cabinet.
“I see…” This time her eyes move back and forth between your sitting figure and a clock hanging in its place on a wall.
“I… have to process some paperwork, could you wait here for a few minutes?” A polite smile graced her lips.
“Of course.” You mimic her actions.
A day requested off to account for a drawn-out appointment, to account for a scenario like this his foresight analysis is making great progress.
You should take note of that once you return home, a daily log still needs to be updated to track consistent progress after all. It’s technically your day off, but you’re free to decide what to do with it.
As you pondered a checklist to complete once you got in front of your desk the door creaks open.
“Oh? That was fast, Dr. Rana-” The sentence dying upon the tip of your tongue as your lips press into a firm line.
The odds of encountering one familiar face out of a pool of thousands is a small nonzero number, however, if that number was increased to three faces out of those thousands, the chances increase.
How unfortunate, even with such small odds, you managed to come face-to-face with the three people you wanted to avoid the most.
They file into the room and the last one closes the door behind himself as your eyes scan over them. Starting with the ebony-haired man in the center, Tighnari, a doctor at the Bimarstan. It makes sense for a doctor to be in a hospital on this fine day, but not for a lawyer, or an architect.
Four former classmates gathered in an examination room, how strange.
Still, you’ve grown enough to adapt to such peculiar situations. Practiced corporate smiles and pleasantries to navigate this stagnant air.
“Cyno, Tighnari, Kaveh, it’s a surprise to see you all here. It’s been a while.”
“A while is a bit of an understatement…” Kaveh is the first of the trio to converse, offering you a small smile.
You return it with one that didn’t reach your eyes. The rhythmic ticks of a clock fill the silence, shifting eyes anticipating and preparing for the next phase of this impromptu reunion. The doctor finally decides to speak up.
“You haven’t been sleeping enough, have you.” Tighnari examining your under eyes.
“I never sleep enough, you know that.” Of course you never slept enough.
How could you sleep when the threat of falling behind the geniuses sitting around a library table was always looming over you? Geniuses who easily grasp the concepts and theories that elude you. How could you lay in bed when you had to catch up to them?
“So, why this sudden get-together?” Impatience rising inside you with each passing tick of the clock.
Dropping the formalities and social pleasantries, you watch as another round of shifting eyes passes. You already had an inkling of the answer they’re still hesitating to address. Finally, your former Kshahrewar senior responds for the group.
“We’re worried about you, you haven’t been in contact for a while now.” Kaveh’s voice was low and mellow, you could tell he took extra effort in marking it such.
The same low and mellow tone he’d speak to you with as he tried to explain your mistakes on an exam, the tone which accompanied the pity in his gaze toward you as he pointed out each miscalculation on your paper. The tone made you ball your fist up on your lap.
“I’m fine, just busy.”
“Please don’t start with that again.” The blond sighs, sympathy still ever-present in his eyes.
“I’m just busy with work, as are all of you, we’re no longer students with minimal responsibilities,” you retort.
The days when a group of friends could gather around a table for hours on end, half bantering and half studying, basking in the Spring warmth streaming in from the grand windows of the House of Daena have long passed.
“We all have busy careers, that’s true, but not to the extent of being a detriment to our health.” With a sigh, Tighnari began his health lecture.
Expounding upon the negative consequences of a poor work-life balance. Shifting your focus instead on tuning out this lecture you didn’t sign up for.
“You stopped listening… of course,” a deep sigh concludes the doctor’s sermon.
Ah, you’ve been found out. The polite smile straining itself upon your lips, legs itching to walk out of this restrictive space.
“Here, it’s a contact of mine, I recommend you give her a call-”
“It’s fine.” You promptly push away the business card just as Tighnari presents it to you, a thread of patience stretched thinly.
“She can help you through-” he continues.
“It’s fine, my research is just busy-”
“This isn’t healthy.”
“It’s my research.” A sharp undertone leaks through your professional demeanor.
“And this is why we’re worried about you!” Kaveh’s patience was the first snap.
Then again, your senior might have been the light of Kshahrewar and a praised genius, but he was never the best at handling his emotional regulation.
“Look around, don’t you see how concerned we are about you? No returned texts or calls and no answers at a doorbell for years, only ever talking about this research. It’s as if you-” he stops himself, rudy eyes meeting with your cold stare.
He knew better than to finish that sentence, you knew that he knew he shouldn’t.
“We’re worried about you, this research… it’s not good for you.” Tighnari interjects, attempting to shift the course of this intervention.
Of course, when the development of an android was announced, there wasn’t just discourse amongst the general public, but debates raged throughout academia as well. How unfortunate it is that friends now stand at polar ends.
“It’s my research,” you reaffirm.
This research was why you got your doctorate, it’s why you have a job, it’s why you have a house. This research has entangled itself into the very fibers of your life. It was where a predetermined path had led you.
The room fills once more with a lull, nothing but deep sighs and ever-shifting eyes. Neither side is able to get through to the other. Typical of most academic debates. Still, it seems they weren’t ready to end the intervention so soon.
“Listen… we’re worried for you, I… I know it’s been very difficult these past years.” Your senior takes a step closer.
That same sympathetic timbre brings a vile taste to your tongue. You stay silent in favor of pushing the bitterness down as it tries to claw its way through your polite façade.
“I… know what it must have been like for you, It’s been hard on all of us. I’ve experienced something similar, so I can tell you-”
“I’m sorry, Kaveh. But tragedies shouldn’t be compared, because they’ll never have a fair comparison.” You end the conversation.
Just like how it isn’t fair to compare stars who were their own centers of gravity with a mere rock at the mercy of an orbital pull to give it direction.
Even when you sat at the same table as them, you were never at the same level as them. Families with academic prestige, minds blessed with wisdom, and the freedom to pursue a self-chosen path. You could only ever look up at what you lacked.
“Your worlds kept on spinning, your lives move on with the change of the season. But not mine, mine stopped long ago.” It’s not fair to compare a rock to a star, from their silence, you assume they knew that too.
“I’m now taking the initiative to make it start again, don’t interfere.” Your valediction to the geniuses whom you couldn’t live up to.
It’s just the nature of this world, geniuses walked their own paths while others took another. Geniuses can’t understand those others, just as others can’t understand geniuses.
This doctor’s appointment has gone on for long enough. Gathering your belongings, you stride past them, eyes refusing to meet.
Your hand pried open the door, pausing just at the threshold as Cyno finally breaks his silence.
“Is this truly what you want? To defy the edicts of finality with research?”
Ah, what an inquiry. Perhaps it’s just like a lawyer to ask such a thing.
“Is my research in violation of any laws in Sumeru?” You refuse to meet his scarlet condemnation.
“As of now, no.”
“Then I don’t see how this involves you, there’s no place for personal biases and mortals in the judicial system.” Crossing the threshold, the door creaks close behind you as hurried steps echo through the sterile hall.
This was a mistake, you should’ve never come here. Your body was fine, your vitals are fine, you’re fine. There wasn’t a point in wasting time here, you needed to leave this place filled with faces offering you condolences. Exiting the narrow hall back into the dim murmurs that fill the waiting room, the last thread of patience starts to splinter.
From the muddled chatter, a bright shrill rang above them all. Interrupting your contemplation as your eyes impulsively search for the source. Even in a sea of passing faces and colors, it didn’t take you long to find it.
A young girl grins a smile with a few gaps as she stretches her arms out to her sides, mimicking an airplane. A young father helpless to his daughter’s giggles, hands secured around her legs as he lets her soar on his shoulders. Next to his side was a giggling mother, watching with amusement and endearment.
A private moment hidden amongst the waiting room, you look away. You should return to the private walls of your house before that thread inevitably breaks. Sliding glass doors part to grant you exit from this suffocating cage.
Like a speck of dust drifting in the breeze, you disappear into the bustling crowd of Sumeru City. The push and pull of strangers further you along your route, even as your mind drifts off.
With modern advancements in aerospace engineering, the chances of a plane crashing have decreased significantly, with recent statistics citing only 1 in about 11 million. A 0.00001% chance, a nonzero chance.
How long ago since the last time you’ve been inside an airport? What were your last memories of an airport? Do you remember?
–----
“Are you sure you can’t come with us?” Your mother’s thumb traced over your hand.
“It’s a bit too late for me to pack, we’re already at the airport, Mom.”
“Don’t you want to visit Fontaine? Didn’t you say they had really advanced things there?” She didn’t let go of your hand.
“I’m busy with my thesis.” You were still in the midst of getting a Ph.D., the very thing they demanded of you.
“But I planned this trip so we could spend time together.” Your mother tried to get you to meet her gaze.
You adverted your eyes. So this is how they spent their recent financial flexibility. With a scholarship and research-assistant salary, you had enough to cover the tuition by yourself, relieving your parents of that burden. But to get that scholarship and salary, you had to pay with your time.
“I’m busy, mom.” You freed your hand from her grasp.
“But-”
“Stop it dear, she’s not going to change her mind.” Your father’s gruff voice stopped your mother.
“There’s no point in trying to change the mind of an ungrateful child.”
You felt the weight of his disappointed stare upon you, a frown formed on your lips as they pressed together. This was a sudden trip announced to you just a few days prior, you didn’t have time to accompany them. But they didn’t seem to care.
Of course they didn’t. Your parents only ever saw the grades, the diplomas, the results. But they never bothered to see the anguish you endured to give it to them.
“Enjoy your trip.” Words barely passed your clenched teeth as you turned around and walked away.
An ungrateful planet ignored the calls from their mother in their first successful act of defiance. Trying to break away from their gravitational pull.
–----
That was your last memory of the airport.
Those were the last memories two parents had of their child.
The child they sacrificed their time, labor, and freedom to build a better life for. Your parent’s last memories were that of an ungrateful child, maybe it was the last scene they thought of as a plane was swallowed by the salty depths.
Humans, defined by their curiosity, will always yearn to reach as high as they can. Tales warning those to never fly too close to the ever-bright star ignored in the pursuit of radiant curiosity. Your parents were no different.
They ever had the chance to travel, too busy trying to provide food in front of you. So when the burdening weight was lifted, naturally they wanted to stretch their wings to see the views they never got to in their youth. They always wanted to touch the sky, to reach for the moon.
There’s a proverb often told to young minds: ‘Shoot for the moon, even if you fall, you can still land on a star’.
This saying is riddled with inaccuracies. The stars are much further away than the serene moon. Beckoning the curious eyes to look at them, for curious hands to yearn for them.
But once the glue on those wings are melted away by selfish rays, what is there to catch them besides the cold unfeeling ocean? Did they sink from the memories of an ungrateful child weighing on them?
You should’ve been on that plane.
The familiar features of your neighborhood come into view, the doors of your house are just ahead. Just hold on, don’t let that thread snap just yet, just a few more steps.
Tighnari had his father and mother working right alongside him at the Bimarstan.
Cyno had regular visits to his adoptive father, and sometimes his adoptive sister Lisa visits too.
Kaveh had reconnected with his mother overseas, now having a few younger half-siblings who jump to greet him every time he visits.
Lives still spinning and warm in the light of their brilliance. What do you have?
A job in a career picked out for you. Paychecks rotting in a bank account with no one to pay back. A spacious and hallow house with no one to reside in its empty walls, only displaying a doctorate you loathed.
A stray rock who lost her stars. Wandering without their gravitational pull in the vacuum of a lonely darkness. Just what do you have?
“Alhaitham,” you call out just as the front door slams behind you.
You could hear his steady steps approaching along the wooden floor, but it’s too slow so your frenzied steps close in the distance between your two forms. The thread gives in and snapping as the recoil proliferates through your body.
Without a greeting, no prompt, or prior warning your grasp wrinkles his once pristine button-down.
The bitter tears you held back now soak into the fabric as even viler cries choke your voice. The shame of displaying such a sight in front of a being whose eyes don’t produce moisture is long abandoned. In the walls of this hallow house, your broken sobs echo off.
He stands still in the middle of the hall, the low hum of his motor resonating in your ears as you hide your face deeper into the synthetic skin of his chest. But that’s fine, the whir of motor is enough of a substitute for a heartbeat.
Alhaitham stands in front of the reflection staring back at him, he had undocked himself from the charging port not too long ago. Tracing over the synthetic material stretched over his imitation of a collarbone as his mind wanders.
There aren’t enough chemicals in tears to make them corrosive, nor were they at the temperature to boil.
So why does it burn?
Trailing his fingertips where your tears soaked onto his skin, recollections of the searing sensation that afflicted the area with each sorrowful drop. Choking sobs which he caused.
He failed to consider all causal factors to assess the situation fully and failed to appraise all possible alternatives. He failed to make the right decision, and he let harm befall you because of it. It’s strange, there’s nothing wrong with his eyes, yet he finds it hard to look in the mirror.
Teal gaze scrutinizes the arms, legs, and body in the reflection. The reflection in front of him had all the identifiable components of a man, but they’re all synthetic.
From the tips of his sliver hair to the vast expanse of his skin, they’re all made from high-quality silicon parts supported by a metal frame. An engineered body with a motor in place of a heart.
Maybe that’s why he failed to make the right decision, he had no heart to weigh in on the ruling.
–-------------------------------------------------------------
The android is faced with a new dilemma.
From the entrance of the kitchen, Alhaitham watches you. A spoon absentmindedly swirling in the cup of coffee on the counter in front of you. Your thoughts wander elsewhere, the rays of a setting sun unable to light up dull spaced-out eyes.
He’s observed your condition for the past week, no hint of improvement.
A new dilemma he must decipher, the urgency rising with each passing second as the spoon continues.
The lull of the evening air was shattered by the sound of a porcelain cup meeting the tiled floor. Jagged pieces and coffee spilled all along the cold surface. Listlessly your eyes move to access the mess on the floor, spoon still grasped in your hand.
“Ah.” That was all your lips could say.
Limbs slowed with lethargy, you crouch down closer to the broken pieces scattered about. Bare hand reaching out to grab the sharp edges unthinkingly. A firm grasp prevents your touch from the ragged porcelain.
“It’s dangerous, I’ll handle it.” Alhaitham brings your hand further away from the hazard.
Your aloof eyes trail past him toward a wall where he could hear a clock tick before they returned to his resolute stare.
“It’s past 5 p.m.”
“A hazard has appeared in the environment, it’s protocol that I clear it.” His rehearsed response.
“Oh… alright.” Limplessness returning to your wrist within his hold, body too lethargic to object.
With you seated at the kitchen table away from the jagged edges that could potentially pierce your skin, Alhaitham begins gathering the pieces. As your aloof eyes wander about the monitor of your laptop, his mind ponders a dilemma.
It’s often said that guilt is held in the heart. In novels and human anecdotes, it's been described to him as a burdensome heaviness that sinks the heart.
A sensation reminiscent of drowning in icy water. A sensation only perceivable through a beating mortal heart.
Alhaitham is an android, he’s aware of this. A being with silicon skin encasing a metal frame. A motor in place of where a mortal heart would be.
So what is this weight burdening his chest?
An internal diagnostic returned no errors and no reports of any damage or unusual occurrence within his systems. Yet, a heaviness brewed deep inside his chest, its mass increasing each sunrise and fall, with every passing moment the riddle was left unanswered.
How could a motor hold guilt? How could the weight of judgment manifest itself in the absence of an organic heart that beats instead of whirs? How could an inorganic object possibly suffer guilt?
All the mora poured into his creation, all the hours of research contributed to his algorithms, and all the texts he’s scanned through were all for naught. The pinnacle of scientific and mechanical development couldn’t solve a simple conundrum.
The floorboard creaks under the weight of his steady strides as he moves about the corridor, the soft swishes of a broom coinciding with each step.
Dust had begun to settle in the crevices of the home, it’s about time that he took up the mantle that was supposed to be his.
Could an explanation of this weight be the backlog of tasks and responsibilities he had pushed off? Chores he ignored in favor of browsing the contents of a library? A burden he selfishly passed onto your shoulders.
Maybe after he completes the tasks that were supposed to be assigned to him he could clear the cache, then this weight in his chest would subside.
The bristles of the broom scratch against a door, the light force setting the frame ajar further. Revealing the dust-coated scene in front of him. A boundary he was restricted from.
Alhaitham concluded that this small corner of the house must hold some sentimental value to you, thus it’s best for him to not disturb it.
Just as he goes to close the door, Alhaitham scans around the environment identifying the shape of a journal tucked away under an old table.
He’s not permitted to enter, but all books belong in the library. Spines sorted along wooden selves, not on a dusty floor.
An exception shall be granted, setting aside the broom, he steps in to collect the neglected book.
While crouching down and gathering the covers into his hold, a different gleam catches his eye. The light reflects off its glass surface and highlights the dust particles dancing in the still air.
With his free hand, he picks it up, teal eyes running along the glass orb. After a moment of processing the object, he successfully identifies it as a toy.
A popular model to display an artificial starry night among blank walls. Alhaitham turns to follow a trail of cut-out stars pasted all along the walls. The soft glow of their plastic shapes subdued by the brilliance of the afternoon sun streaming in.
Were you interested in stars? Glancing out the window, he discerns the murky shapes of buildings in Sumeru City off in the distance.
This house is located in the suburbs away from the noisy clammer of the city streets and traffic. However, where the sound waves couldn’t travel didn’t mean the sky around this quiet neighborhood was uncontaminated by activities in the city.
When the sun retreats away for rest, the city doesn’t follow suit.
Through the power of fluorescent lights in street lamps and office buildings, humans created their own artificial daylight to continue the bustle of their lives. Light which polluted the night sky and stole the radiance away from her stars.
Unable to enjoy the natural tapestry of the night, did you substitute the company of stars with toy imitations?
Turning the orb in his hand, his eyes notice the signs of damage along the projector. Perhaps that’s why it sat abandoned in this room.
He’s stayed in this restricted space long enough. Carefully closing the door behind him, hands still full.
–-------------------------------------------------------------
“I’ve uncovered a strange object, my software isn’t able to identify it.” Alhaitham stands just outside the open office door.
Sparing him a glance away from your monitor, your brows pinched together in confusion at his sudden report during the late hours of the night.
“A strange object?” You inquire again.
“Yes, I’ve scanned over it a few times but no results are returning.”
“Huh…”
Teals watching you press a finger against your pursed lips in concentration. A habit of yours often displayed when amid contemplation. After a few breaths, your eyes meet his as you give your reply.
“Well, where is this object?”
“Come with me.”
Along the wooden floor, two pairs of steps tap rhythmically in time with one another as they traverse the hallway stopping at the living room where the mysterious object resides.
Approaching the coffee table in the center, Alhaitham steps to the side to present it as it sits upon the polished surface.
“This… is what’s been giving your software issues?” The quirk returned to your brow as you cast him a glance.
Alhaitham simply nobs as you approach the object closer. Kneeling beside it, your eyes examine the familiar device.
“It’s a planetarium projector, it projects the scene of a night sky, in other words: just a toy.”
He hums in acknowledgment, carefully treading toward the light switch in the corner as the toy holds the gaze of your eyes.
“It should be thrown away… It’s broken after all.” Your tone dismissive, yet your hand caresses the broken toy with tenderness.
“It’s not,” he replies.
Perking your head up, you turn to face him with that same furrow between your brows.
“What do you mean, Alhaitham-”
He flicks the switch, plunging the room in a blanket of darkness earning a squeak of surprise from you. The device whirs as it awakens, painting the blank tapestry with a scene of the night sky with its shimmering lights.
The vibrant shapes of stars and planets take their place along the living room wall, creating a private galaxy that surrounds you.
Your sentence remains unfinished upon your tongue as your eyes take in the display encompassing you. The nostalgic glimmer of the night and her stars twinkle in the reflection of your irises as he settles down beside you.
“Did… did you fix it?”
He hums in response.
It only took a bit of study and careful tinkering to restore the worn pieces and gears. A simple effort was all it took to allow the projector to shine its recreation of the stars. Returning a light that he hasn’t seen in a while.
“Thank you, Alhaitham,” you breathe out, lips curling up softly and eyes still enraptured by the stars.
He doesn’t respond this time as his teal gaze focuses on your expression, on the smile that’s been missing for some time. It’s strange, this sensation manifesting in his chest. He thought if he was able to restore the light to your eyes, then that heaviness brewed deep inside his chest would clear. But it remained.
His system unable to express nor suppress the heaviness which bubbled up like seafoam rising to the surface.
The sensation was different than it was before. Instead of a mass that weighed him down to the bottom of a cold depth, it was more reminiscent of a warm ebb. Washing over every limb of his as he studied the curvature of your lips and the glimmer of your eyes.
Another internal diagnostic wasn’t necessary, for Alhaitham had reached his epiphany to a conundrum. An engineered body may lack a heart, but not a conscious.
A consciousness that acts like a vessel collecting the accumulation of that heaviness. A heaviness that couldn’t be called ‘guilt’.
No, perhaps it has always been something other than ‘guilt’.
It only took until the vessel overflowed for an engineered body to recognize it for what it truly was.
There’s something strange happening to your Android. Reviewing the diagnostic reports of his systems returned nothing out of the ordinary. So why did you suspect something to be wrong? Perhaps you could call it intuition.
Or perhaps it’s the lack of books strewn about the house. Or the initiation of tasks without a prompt. Or that night a living room was filled with the radiance of tiny dots along empty walls. Something strange is happening.
“Alhaitham, what’s taking you so long in the kitchen?” You poke your head out from the kitchen doorway, sights honing in on your android currently scrutinizing the recipe book in his hands.
Perhaps there’s a defect in the print, if the black ink isn’t contrasting enough with the beige paper, which time has faded, it does cause issues with optical character recognition. Maybe the past splatters of sauces and oils upon the aged book were too much of a hurdle.
“Chef Mao is a renowned cook, but his recipes are vague. He suggests a pinch of salt to enhance the flavor of this dish. I’ve calculated that Chef Mao has a 19.3 cm hand length which entails that his ‘pinches’ measure around 0.356 grams. However, he said to add Jueyun Chili oil until fragrant, I’m still processing the data I’ve collected on his olfactory system, the calculations will take around five minutes.” He turns back to the stove.
“Alhaitham.”
“Yes?”
“Please put down the book and get out of the kitchen.” A bold choice of words from you.
“Was my response unsatisfactory?” His teal eyes land on you.
“It’s just that I’m hungry.”
“This dish should be complete in around 90 minutes accounting for the other-”
“No,” you interrupt.
He studies you for a while, accessing the situation and the unfinished dish still simmering on the stove. After a few breaths, he returns a response.
“Shall I order delivery from Lambad’s Tavern?” His hand switches off the fire.
He conceded. The notoriously stubborn and fickle android conceded to your whims. There was definitely something wrong. You pace into the kitchen, getting close to observe his teal irises for any sign of possible flaws.
“Alhaitham, you’ve been behaving strangely as of late, did you encounter something?”
He returns your gaze, teal reflecting off your irises as you continue to study him, and him you. His silence only amounts to the deepening furrow between your brows as your assessment of his frame fails to identify any impairments.
“Why have you been behaving like this?” You prompt again.
“Have I neglected my responsibilities for so long that fulfilling them has become a cause for concern?” He finally responds.
“Now’s not the time for jests,” you huff.
“From what I’ve reviewed on human behavior, it’s not strange to want to care for the person I love.” A blunt statement.
From the window, the moonlight peeks upon the strange phenomenon occurring. Two bodies remain motionless in a silent lull.
One pair of placate teal eyes and one pair of bewildered eyes too lost in each other to mind the witness intruding on this private moment. Words finally conquer in your brain, ending the quietude.
“Refrain from saying nonsensical words.” Your lips press together into a thin line.
“Do you believe such a thing is beyond my capabilities?”
You couldn’t respond, or more accurately, you simply didn’t know how to. A being without a heart, a being who lacked the necessary chemicals to create the cocktail known as emotions. How is it possible?
“I have no heart, I’m aware. But I have a conscience.” He must’ve deduced the exact thoughts racing through your head.
Your brows only furrow further as you wait for him to continue his explanation.
“Every person should have something that they believe in and hold on to from beginning to end. Otherwise, it's easy to succumb to the vicissitudes of life and find yourself being led astray.” Taking note of the glistening shine beginning to pool in your wide eyes.
“And I believe that I love you.” His sincere gaze never leaves your form.
Not a single sentence is able to form upon your tongue. An expression he couldn’t decipher upon your features. Perhaps his statement was too long-winded, an overly complicated explanation. Maybe a simpler one could convey his message better.
You’re the first to break eye contact, choosing to watch the tiles on the floor over him. He remains firm in his stance, not faltering once as the seconds turn into minutes. Your shoulders rise as your lungs take a deep breath.
“… say that again… please.” Words just barely above a whisper.
He could only bend to your whims.
“I love you.”
Your head lifts up to face him, your hands hesitating momentarily as they cup his cool cheeks, fingers trembling. Something glimmering in your eyes as droplets escape your lashes.
This time, Alhaitham wipes them away before they could trail down your cheeks.
You did it. All those long hours, all those reports and trials, all of these years sacrificed to research. You’ve created a complete human consciousness with your bare hands. One that understands sorrow, joy, and love.
You succeeded.
However, in this moment as you peer into the teal eyes of your Magnum opus, as he reflects the endearment in your own. The notion of reporting this revolutionary milestone in the development of artificial intelligence never crossed your mind once.
Instead, all you did in this moment was pull his face down closer. Closing the distance between the two of you as your lips felt his for the first time. Warm skin against a soft imitation, merging until a lukewarm temperature formed between their touch.
A gentle, yet longing connection of two lips.
Only when your lungs protest for air did you pull away, hands still encompassing his face as he reveals his teal eyes back from behind closed lids. Eyes reflecting one another as a tender lull settles between you. This time, his whisper mingles with the soft intermission.
“Was that a kiss?”
Such an innocent question, one you couldn’t help but giggle at as you nod your head.
“Could you show me again?” His hands found purchase on your hips, beckoning you closer to his frame.
You surrender to the call, pressing against him as your lips reconnect. A rhythm soon settled in place as they pressed into each other deeper. One that was interrupted once more by your lung's protest for oxygen. At a mere kiss, your mind ceased to remember how to breathe.
“Again.” A baritone voice just above the hush of your pants.
And so your lips meet thrice, this time in an all-consuming embrace. A hesitant brush of a tongue against your lips, requesting access. Your hands move up to caress his soft locks as you grant it. Latching onto each other as the shroud consumed you both wholly.
A beautifully feverish delirium. The line in the sand that separated a person from a thing jumbled until the outline disappeared. A singularity, an amorous occurrence.
He releases your lips, the lust in your eyes reflected in his own. Giving a moment for your mind to return to attention as his lips brush away the fading traces of wetness down your cheeks.
“A kitchen isn’t a suitable setting for such an activity,” he whispers next to your ear.
Baritone trailing a line of goosebumps up your neck and you nod in response, burying your face into the crook of his neck which fit you perfectly.
Slowly his hands travel down your hips, awaiting your confirmation for the next step just as you permitted it. In one fluid transition, his arm wraps around the back of your legs, effortlessly lifting you off the ground as your arms envelop his neck.
Steady steps pad along a wooden hallway, the hinges of your bedroom singing their welcome as the two of you advance to a more suitable setting. Depositing you upon cool sheets, fabric wrinkling as your body settles in. The arms still wrapped around his neck pull him closer as this time your legs join in luring him closer to your warmth.
It’s strange, is it possible for his lips to crave yours? The light of the moon reflected off the glossiness coating them. He delves back in as his body hovers over yours, unwilling to be apart from the softness it yearned for.
The soft flesh of your writhing body against his firm hands, feeling up your heated skin he slips under your shirt. Bunching up the fabric as he explores more of the new expanse of skin. A lovely whimper vibrates against his lips at his actions, spurring him to continue.
Tracing over the outline of your bra, his fingers creep under. Kneading the plushness of your breast, feeling your nipple beginning to perk up against his ministration. An itch stretching from the pits of his desire, a curious craving to witness the sight concealed away.
Disjoining your lips as a string of saliva connects them, he pushes your shirt further up. All the while your hands grasp onto the edges of the fabric and push them back down. Bemusing his beryl eyes as they catch how the tips of your ears were aflame, a peculiar display of bashfulness.
Well, a sight he’s witnessed on a few occasions. Such as when you’d leave the shower wrapped in a towel just to cross paths with him. A timidity that gradually faded away as you grew more confident in the privacy restrictions in place, ensuring that the secrets of this home remained in the confines of its walls.
So why is this shyness making its reappearance now?
“Are you uncomfortable anywhere?” His words ghost over the shell of your vulnerable ear.
Causing you to jolt and pull down the edges of your shirt to cover the bottom of your loungewear shorts.
“No, it’s just been a while…” Your sentence trails off, eyes still focusing everywhere but him.
Ah, a mere string of words, yet they tempted something from the depths. An oppressive sentiment, one that made the grip upon your soft flesh grow firmer. He’s yet to have accessed the entirety of your figure, a view still denied to him by your taut shirt, but another entity had.
There was a myriad of questions he could use to interrogate. However, as his teal gaze observe how your teeth lightly tug at the bottom of your plush lips in fidgety. Alhaitham devises a much kinder scheme.
It’s fine, he can overwrite them with his touches.
“What can I do to gain permission?” A question asked as a line of kisses press their way into your fervent skin, goosebumps following each one.
Biting down to muffle the bashful moans into whimpers you burrow your face into the plushness of the pillow. Alhaitham continues to soothe kisses over the fabric of your shirt until they finally reach your quivering hands still stretching the hem.
His hand encloses one of yours, bringing it away from the fabric refuge to press his lips against your knuckle. An action that made you peak back at him, meeting a patient gaze awaiting you.
Another soft press of his lips against your knuckle in silent request, at last, got you to release the hem, allowing him to push the fabric up to expose what was hidden from him. Permitting him to explore the sultry expanses with a wake of kisses, your hand finding reprieve entangling themselves with his.
His free hand slipping behind your back, he unfastens the clasp of your bra with a slight tug, a relatively simple task when you learn how such a contraption works.
His grasp untangles from yours as he pushes the useless articles of clothing off your body, you raise your arms over your head to aid in the process.
He rewards you with another flurry of kisses in the valley of your breast as his large hands encase the softness of your breast. A motion that made your legs pull him closer.
Your touches dance along his frame as well, unable to differentiate the difference between skin and a recreation. More whimpers leave your lips at his actions, prodding something in him to do more. To steal more of those sinful breaths from you, something in his coding thirsting for more.
Sliding his hands back down the curves of your body, he hooks his fingers over the rim of your shorts and panties pulling them down. Glass eyes zeroing in on the glistening thread that linked your panties and slit. Proof of arousal, your body awakening its cardinal impulses.
Could the signals transmitted through his system be classified in the same way?
He wants to investigate further. Moving his face lower to inspect the saturated folds that beckoned him.
Only to be denied by the gates of your knees pressing together, as your body curls up in fortification. Denying him the privilege of satiating his curiosity is like denying a man water in an ocean of sand. Evaluating how your eyes were squeezed together in shame, he had foresaw this.
“Mmm, there seems to be an incongruity, do you want me to stop?” Large hands grasping at your plush thighs, but making no move to part them.
Your head responds with a shake, but your knees still locked together. Your attention centering on him bashfully.
“Then guide me, tell me how to please you,” he proposes hands soothing your tense legs.
Utilizing the skill he had accessed a few moments ago once more, gracing your skin with his lips awaiting your response. The tension in your legs loosens with each kiss, and gradually a fissure forms in the barrier of your defense, knees parting.
However, he doesn’t cross the threshold, no, he restrained himself from indulging too soon. Half-ladden eyes peering up to connect with yours.
“Well, tell me. What do you want me to do?”
A pout makes its appearance on your face, but what could you do? It is your responsibility to shepherd him since the beginning, to have him step over the line dividing an android and man. Best to take on your duty, no?
Parting your legs further, cheeks ablaze and eyes adverted as you allow his teal gaze to absorb the uninterrupted view of your dripping arousal. Your hands aiding as they thwart the urge of your bashful legs’s urge to preserve your dignity.
“Please use your mouth and hands,” you prompt, face pressing deeper into one side of a pillow under his stare.
Alhaitham encroaches closer to your glistening folds, his large hands supporting each one of your thighs. Approaching the details of your honeypot in front of him, concentrating on the little nub which lures him closer. He presses a light peck against the nub as your body flinches.
“Like this?”
Plush lips pressed tightly, you respond with timid shakes.
Returning back, his lips delving deeper this time, an audible pop when he pulls away from your taunted clit. Feeling the muscles tighten in your legs.
“Like that?” Mirth leaked through his baritone words.
Your head shakes with more vigor.
“Then how about this?” This time his tongue takes action, dipping into the center of your honeypot before flicking up at your nub.
You return a restrained moan, teal eyes picking up on the twitch of your folds. It seems that he’s uncovered the proper procedures. Peering up from between your legs at the harsh rises of your chest by rush breaths as your eyes remained sealed behind lashes, he decided to impart some mercy. Taking the initiative to shoulder a bit of your duty.
Retracing his steps, his tongue repeating its previous motions of lapping up the nectar that slipped out from your folds. Always ending each strip up your slit with a flick to your sensitive nub.
Your hands abandon their post in favor of snaring themselves in his ashen trestles as your back begins to arch off the sheets. Thighs beginning to enclose around his head, yet it didn’t deter the vigor in his motions one bit.
If anything, it spurred them on. The added pressure of your legs pulling him against your weeping folds assisted him in his quest. Testing which pattern made your body quiver, calculating the pace of his tongue's flicks made your hips buck up.
Alhaitham takes notice of how your greedy hole seems to be clenching down every time a tongue dipped in, you did request for his mouth and fingers after all.
A finger begins to prod at your entrance, coating itself in the overflowing slick as it traces the puckering entry. Your whines increase in volume as your greed escalates, legs locking around him. Thus, he yields to your neediness, filling your lonely walls with the company of his finger.
Thrusting it in time with his licks as he rubs against the slick muscles. Your back arched off the bed, your fingers grounding themselves in the tangles of his hair as if trying to hold on to a shred of reason.
His interest has been greatly piqued, he wanted to see what it would look like. He wants to see what your expression looks like when you fall into the depths of debauchery. You’d permit him such privileges right? After all, curiosity is what defines the human spirit.
A second finger soon joins in, its thickness stretching and prepping your walls, cultivating your arousal into a rapacious hunger.
Articulate tongue now focused on abusing your clit in the swipes of sweet torture, lips encasing around it to provide some suction. Fingers honing in on relocating the weakness deep within you which made your voice peak and tremble.
He could hear the harshness of your panting breath between each escalating moan, how your walls squeezed and sucked his fingers deeper. Teal gaze never once ceased their evaluation of your face. Making sure to appraise each lewd detail of your impending ecstasy.
It’s impossible to stand at the apex of euphoria forever, no, for gravity will always pull you back down. A pivotal moment in time as the forces tugged down at you as you fell, losing your shame and sanity along the way.
A fall from grace which etches itself in the roll of your eye and vulgar expression, caused by the tempest of pleasure seeps into every fiber of your being as you plummeted down into the ocean of rapture.
The fingers intertwined in his hair pulling his face flushed against your pulsing cunt. Even with your mind fractured by orgasmic bliss your body still reacts to each lap of his tongue as he manages the slick aftermath. Fingers stroking your sweet spot through each contraction of your walls.
“Nng!” A feeble push against his ashen locks, your abused clit crying for a moment of reprieve.
Oh? It seems your consciousness returned faster than he expected. With a resounding pop, he grants your overstimulated nerves a moment to recover. Allowing the traces of your nectar to dribble down his chin. Taking this moment to verify the effectiveness of his scheme.
The air dense with the fragrance of lust, lips red from the abuse of your teeth, mouth agape as your lungs gasp tongue almost lulling out.
An absolutely debauched face, a sight which brought the corners of his lips to curl.
Counting the beads of sweat that lingered on your skin, his rationale urged him to swipe them off to prevent a chill from plaguing you. Withdrawing away from your form he plans his destination to the bath to retrieve a towel, only for a smaller hand to snag him in its hold.
Alhaitham turns back to face you, awaiting your next prompt. However, your bitten lips couldn’t muster up the courage to utter the plea it so desperately wanted. Thus, your eyes connect with his, praying that a slow blink could convey the invocation your voice couldn’t.
Standing there as a few breaths pass, the teal glow of his irises indicates his deduction of what your eyes conveyed. Ah yes, the passionate entanglement experience just a moment before could be classified as ‘foreplay’. The appetizer to the main event.
So your appetite has yet to be satiated, evident from how your thighs pressed against each other in an attempt to quell the ache. How could he leave a task undone?
“Show me what you desire,” he instructs.
Hesitantly, your hands encroach closer to the rim of his slacks. Your every action observed by him. Resting your palms against the outline of a zipper, you glance up to seek confirmation, he grants it.
You undo the button at the top before pulling the zipper down. Allowing for you to shimmy his briefs and slacks down to the floor. Revealing to the world, with the moon as your witness, every intricate detail placed into his engineered body.
It felt so foreign in your hands. Encircling your fingers around his girth, tracing over the bumps of each vein. Amid your admiration, his body overtook yours. Pinning you back against the damp sheets. It seems you were very interested in this feature of his, perhaps it was the cure for the yearning between your writhing legs.
Your legs splayed to either side of his hips, a clear path to your greed. His hand spreads your collected slick along his length. Its bulbous tip presses against your quivering entrance. Meeting your half-lidden eyes, he awaits your permission. Thus, you captured his lips into another kiss, just as the tip breaches the threshold of your entrance.
Finally giving your aching walls the delicious stretch it craved. A moan resonates between connected lips, your eyes beginning to roll back as he sinks deeper and deeper, obscene squelches following each inch.
Thick tip pressed up against the deepest parts of you as he bottoms out, your hands finding refuge along his back. Breaking the lock of your lips, Alhaitham lifts cants his head up to take in the scene under him.
Hovering over your panting form, his body caging you against the wrinkled fabric, feeling your unseemly breaths against his skin. A teal glow reflected in the lust-hazed pools of your eyes.
He understands now, why so many poets lost their minds, trying their whole lives to find the words to chronicle the sight laid out before him along messy sheets.
Under his tense study, your fingers lightly claw at the smooth expanse of his back. A soundless prayer to quell the famine, your gummy walls coaxing around his cock with its embrace.
“Haitham,” you mewl.
Not even the greatest saint could deny your request, he wagers they’d gladly walk through the gates of damnation just for a morsel of you.
Rolling his hips back, he drags his girth along the walls of your greed ensuring that they feel the outline of every vein. Feeling the cool air brush against the slick dripping off his length, only the bulbous tip remained in the clutches of your cunt.
A muffled whine of protest from you interrupted as he sunk back in, accompanied by a filthy squelch.
Robust hands encompass the edges of your waist, he repeats the roll of his hips. Feeling the tightening clutches of your core, croons falling off your tongue with each toing and froing.
What symphonies could he draw from those agape lips of yours?
He wants to witness the sinful hymns of your voice as you are overtaken by the throes of pleasure. Perhaps he should conduct an experiment of his own. Through the raunchy air, a clap pierces the leaden veil, your plush hips pressed flush against his anchored ones, a thrust that seared your nerves and curled your toes.
“Ah!” Moan ripped from your throat.
Yes, that’s the amplitude he wants to discern with his ears.
Continue to sing in that octave. It’s as if pulled by the reins of sin, he finds himself experiencing hunger for the first time, fixating on tearing more of those chants from you. He drew back his hips then forced them back in deeper. A wail followed each rake of his cock, walls accenting each thrust with fluttering clenches. Mewls and whines resonated through the room as his firm grip didn’t slacken with each rock of the bed.
Pace escalating and remorseless, skin clashing against skin, the heat of your writhing body scorching him. But he won’t relent, not until he’s taken what he wanted. Driving you deeper into the creaking mattress, thrusting and filling each crevice of your core. Your soft breast pinned against his solid frame.
Your face pressed into the crook of his neck, legs imprisoned within the confines of his bruising grasp, toes painfully arched in an attempt to distribute the burn of the maddening euphoria firing through each nerve. The moans of his name like a prayer of salvation, a chant for every punishing strike against your deepest weakness. Your fingers now clawing against his durable back for a foothold for your fleeing sanity. You feared that this time, it might not return to you.
Oddly, a voice from the rearmost corner of your mind whispered for you to relinquish it. Trade in rationale, sensibility, and morals for absolute ecstasy. Your teeth had already sunk into the apple, its juices dribbling down the corners of your mouth. Why not swallow it down? Get drunk off the wet claps of skin, the grind of his muscular torso against your stimulated clit, the slams of his girthy cock and thick tip. Why deny yourself from the euphoria robbed from you for so long?
So you concede to its beckoning, swallowing down the last wisp of sanity until it drowned in the maddening abuse of your sweet spot from his pistoning hips. Granting you entry to true pleasure as the knot in your core unravels. Backing arching off the mattress, mending the fibers of your being impossibly close to his. Head thrown back against a ruffled pillow as a long shameless wail erupts from your trembling lips. Lost in the tides of rapture.
Alhaitham’s body stills as his ears digest the beautiful aria of your undoing. Feeling your slick and warm walls contract all around his cock. Milking him for every last speck of gratification he could offer you.
A moment couldn’t be classified as a simple impulse for procreation. No, he believed it went beyond the lust hanging in the air. An indescribable urge to mend your bodies as close as possible, to becoming wholly one with one another. The thump of your heartbeat against the whir of a motor as they merge into a mantra.
Is this why humans crave physical intimacy?
Watching your loose face tremor and your teary eyes roll back. A painting no muse besides you could ever inspire. Leaning down, his lips brush away the glistening trails down your supple cheeks. Coaxing you through the throes of your orgasmic shudders. Until the light of consciousness returns to your half-lidden eyes.
The limitations of the human body expose themselves in the limpness of your limbs, unable muscles unable to budge besides the twitching aftershocks of bliss. Unable to fight against the weight of your eyelids for the first time in a while. You sink into the lull of slumber.
–-------------------------------------------------------------
Somewhere amid the driftless darkness a sensation brushes against your skin. Causing your lashes to pry open just ever so slightly, blurry shapes merging gradually to form the outline of a man. One who’s tendering wiping a soft towel over the sweat drops littering your skin. The soft glow of his emerald gem illuminated the devotion of his crafted face. You wonder where he learned about such practices after the rite of sex. Did he pull it from the Akasha? The internet? Or maybe from a book hidden along the shelves of a private library.
You couldn’t stifle the giggle roused from your musing. Alerting him as his hands halt.
“Did I wake you?” Baritone voice hushed.
Face still pressed into a pillow you shake your head, hair messy and a smile spreading across your soft features.
“Just musing to myself where you learned such things,” you giggle.
“This is typical behavior of lovers from my understanding.” Teal gaze observed the widening of your eyes which reflected him.
Perhaps he made too great of an assumption. Back in the margins of a kitchen, it was only his words. It’s best to get clarification now.
“Are we lovers?” He peers into your irises.
The glow of the gem embedded in his chest spreads its gentle radiance over two figures through the unbuttoned window of his wrinkled button-down. Carving the shape of you and him from the shadows of the silent room. Illuminating how your wide eyes crinkle up with adoration. Fighting against the fatigue of your limbs, you lean up to press your lips against the brilliance of his gem. After the amorous kiss ended, you proceeded to lean your forehead against his.
“You’re my lover, Alhaitham.” Your whisper ghosts over his face.
“Understood.” His foreheads pressing against yours as he accepts his new sentience.
The shape of your delicate fingers fitting into the space between his, intertwining as the moonlight reflects off gold and emerald.
The sky shrouds itself in its evening gown of deep navy and luminous glimmers, all the while a bashful moon covers herself away. Perhaps she hid herself away after she witnessed a sinful scene through a gap in the curtains. A private moment heavy with passion in the air like tender caresses.
“W-wait!” Stammering words just barely leaving your lips before another moan.
Alhaitham pulls his tongue away as he tilts his face to peer up from between your thighs, a trail of slickness connecting his lips and your pussy. The haze of your breathless expression reflected in teal irises.
“I-it’s t-too ah!-” A moan interrupts your protests as your head jolts back, his thumb continuing to circle your swollen clit.
“Much? I know you can take more,” he states before returning his lips to your dripping folds, lapping up each trickle.
He’s analyzed your body, its curves and cervices, each clench of your slick walls, and the pattern of your gasps. Skilled fingers learning the exact rhythm which made your legs tense and toes curl. Diligent tongue knowing where to tease to run shivers up your spine.
“B-but I’ve already c-came!” Your fingers tangle themselves into his tousled locks, a feeble attempt at pushing back the maddening flicks of his tongue and cruel strokes of his thumb that shot up your fried nerves. Report long forgotten under the haze of lust and lewd slurps imbuing the room.
And you can come again. Alhaitham has long picked up on the discrepancy between the words which fell from the same lips as those lewd sounds. Lips who couldn’t be as honest as your heaving and trembling body. Whining and writhing in his firm hold that it’s too much, yet your fingers entangle themselves deep in silver tresses pulling his impatient tongue deeper between your folds.
From the shivers racking through your trembling thighs, he anticipates another orgasm. However, the unholy cries have ceased. Intent eyes glancing up to uncover the causal factor, those naughty plush lips of yours pressing themselves shut. Crueling sealing away those ethereal harmonies from him.
Alas, just a small inconvenience doesn’t deter him. If those lips were the only barrier barring him from the privilege of hearing his deserved moans, then he’d simply make them crumble. Replacing his thumb with his lips, Alhaitham suckles on the swollen nub as your body jerks up.
Grip imprinting his fingers into your skin as they stop your pitiful attempts at locking out from heaven. The heaving of your chest jostling around your perked breast as they meet the cool night air.
His tongue teases and rolls your overstimulated clit around as his lips imprison it, a sweet torture. Your thrashes unable to prevent your head from going under the depths of pleasure. Thighs compressing around his face as they grow taut, hips bucking themselves against his relentless mouth, back lifting off the mattress as your final defenses crumble along with your sanity.
Limpness seeps into your now heavy limbs as your body returns to the mattress, but your eyes haven’t quite returned from seeing the back of your head. Still in the throes of cloud nine as his diligent tongue collects all your leaking nectar. The aftershocks of your orgasm force gasps and whimpers from your quivering lips.
To comfort your abused clit he places a tender kiss against it, a flinch in your hip resulting from the gesture. Alhaitham pulls away, eyes scanning the repercussions of his operation. Your chest steadily rises and falls as panting lungs find air again.
The rush of dopamine, endorphins, and oxytocin gradually disappears behind your drooping eyelids. Lashes slowly fluttering closed.
Glancing at the numbers displayed on a nearby clock, Alhaitham deems tonight a success as well. While the primary purpose of intercourse might be for reproduction, sex has additional benefits. One of them being an orgasm’s ability to decrease stress, resulting in the production of more melatonin. The chemical that’s making you burrow further in your pillow. A tactic he’s learned to exploit these past months. Well, he’s your lover now, it’s within his authorization to do such.
Carefully he slides your panties back up your legs, securing them on your hips as he trails a few touches along your soft skin. Following it up by pulling the covers over your frame, smoothing out a few wrinkles as your chest steadily moves up and down.
Just as he steps one foot away from the bed, a warmth encircles his wrist.
“Aren’t you coming to bed too?”
An artificial body needs no downtime under soft covers. Plush pillows and sheets serve no purpose to him. Yet, it’s a simple request. How could he reject it when it came from your pouting lips?
“In a moment, I need to return to my port first.”
The throes of slumber’s hold creeping upon you as your lashes fight to flutter open. With a soft hum, you release your hold.
His battery percentage was fine, but it was just for system maintenance. It’s strange how unfamiliar a room can feel after spending his nights by your side. Staring at the glass surface of his charging port, he wonders, in the future will there be a way for him to not leave your side even for a moment?
His dilemma remains. He’s got all the characteristics of a human. He’s developed a consciousness, he’s developed empathy, he’s developed love. Is his engineer body the only thing which stood in his way of obtaining humanity?
Is it possible for him to grasp onto humanity with his own mechanical fingers? A soft thud returns him to reality. Observant eyes caught the book that his foot had knocked into. Its worn cover has been lying abandoned on the floor ever since he took it from a dusty room.
Ah, it seems like he’s forgotten a task. Realistically, it won’t make a difference whether the book settles on a shelf tonight or in the morning. However, he never got a chance to read the journal’s contents. Curiosity being his rationale for performing a chore so late at night.
Flipping through the aged parchment, his eyes scan through each neatly written paragraph. Nothing more than a simple collection of ramblings and theoretical reflections typical of a journal.
Yet, something was poking the back of his consciousness, like the warning rattle of a locked door. Beseeching that it remains sealed. His eyes move to the next sentence regardless.
To ignore the pleas of safety to venture closer to the radiance of a star. Isn’t that what it means to be human? Is this what he must do to become one?
To achieve this impossible task, it sounds like you'll need to fool your own heart first. Although it may feel like a trick, self-encouragement may be the most important tool we have.
Alhaitham scans the paragraph again as he contemplates the message neatly written. Something unpleasant roused in his chest, as if those written words had encroached too close to his motor. The urge to frown tugs on his lips.
Not wanting to end the night with a bitter taste just at the edge of his tongue, he flips to another page. Covering that vexatious sentence behind a fresh sheet of aged parchment.
One must act on his own will and deal with anything that appears harmful in his eyes.
It’s quite straightforward advice, humans and androids alike would understand. Yet that strange inkling remained, continuing to brew somewhere from within. A phenomenon he couldn’t pinpoint. Thus, he turns the page yet again.
Every person should have something that they believe in and hold on to from beginning to end. Otherwise, it's easy to succumb to the vicissitudes of life and find yourself being led astray.
He recognizes those words, they’re words he’s recited before you one pivotal sometime ago. Why were they scrawled in some forgotten journal? It seems that he’s identified the name of this phenomenon brewing within him: deja vu.
Yet, his question only remains half-answered. Why were his words here? Who penned them down? The rapid flicks of paper resound off the blank walls as he scrutinizes each sentence, each paragraph, each syntax until he reaches the back cover of the aged journal. Question still remaining half answered.
Who was the author of his words?
His finger runs into a lump along the surface of the back cover, examining it closer, something was folded away just behind a parchment pocket. Soon a loose scrap of paper was felt along his fingertips, a folded-up post-it note of an emerald hue. Unraveling it just slightly, his eyes move along the familiar handwriting.
To the person who’s always meddling through my notes, did my written thoughts entertain you? Dear w-
The emerald scrap crumples in his hold. Deformed paper returns to its place before he snaps the covers closed. There’s no purpose in analyzing its contents, after all, they’re already programmed into him.
It was just now in this moment that Alhaitham had solved the dilemma he was assigned since the moment he awoke in that lab. He’s not a human, he’ll never be a human, he’s an abomination.
In the next moment, he found himself looming over the origin of his dilemma. Artificial teal glow honing in upon the steady breaths from the genesis of abomination. Standing over you as you were cradled in the comfort of slumber and soft sheets.
A pair of taut hands make their way to encircle your frangible neck. It wouldn’t take much, just a mere second to terminate the great sinner who defied mortality, the one who violated the terms of finality and ordinance of the gods.
So this is what you choose to do with the capacity of science and progress in your hands.
Was he just a toy for you? Something to fill the lull of this house for you? Just an experiment for you, but everything to him.
His fingers press into your warm skin, breaths uninterrupted as you remain within the blessing of a dream. Oblivious to the nightmare you’ve created. Or perhaps you were always aware, but choose to reflect back to him the manufactured image of him in those guiltless irises of yours.
Oh, what should he do with the monster sleeping so soundly under him?
His fingers refused to budge, hands disobeying the rationale which commanded them. His grip goes slack, limp for they couldn’t conclude their obligation. They couldn’t, he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.
It’s not a protocol, nor a restriction coded into him. No, for the laws of morality, this land, and heaven would’ve called for him to be an executioner. To charge the transgressor with the judgment they deserved. But, he couldn’t.
Every fiber of his counterfeit body refused to take the sword. The chains which bind his hands were much mightier than the commandments of gods, the restraints of love.
Thus, he’s nothing more than a prisoner in its hold. Bending to its whims, what else could he do? Removing his hands from your form as you continue to soundly sigh in the embrace of slumber. All he could do was lie down on a soft mattress and stare at the shameless sinner beside him.
A foolishly beloved monster.
Slow steps pad through the quiet halls, floor boards singing a hymn with your leisurely steps. Approaching the end of the hall where the humble library resides, the oak doorway finally framed him in clear view.
“There you are, Alhaitham.” You can’t help but sigh as your features soften.
He stood there with his starlight locks in the morning glow of a brilliant sun amongst the collection of books in the library. Just as he always has been.
Lifting his head away from the pages of the novel in his hand, he acknowledges your presence. He’s been heading here more often recently, right from the moment he leaves his side of the bed.
“Good morning,” he recites, steadfast eyes remaining unreadable.
Well, you suppose obtaining the title of a lover wouldn’t just overwrite the capriciousness of his mind. It’s just in his nature to be this way. This enigmatic lover of yours. Turning your attention to the cover that’s captured his focus.
“Frankenstein?” Your brow quirks up.
“Yes, the 1818 edition.” He closes the cover.
“Mmm, your interest seems quite piqued by that novel.” You wonder if that was the cause behind his frequent bouts of silent contemplation throughout the day.
“I suppose it’s because I’m still deciphering the intentions of this story.”
“That’s it?” A furrow now in your brows, a simple book has gotten the pinnacle of scientific progress stumped?
“Care to elaborate for me?” He turns toward you as your steps approach closer.
Handing over the worn object to your outstretched hand, you analyze each faded corner of the cover. Mind recalling the recollections of the acclaimed revolutionary piece of science fiction. Formulating your answer, you share your conclusions with him.
“The story has several themes, but the central principle is quite defined. To quote a few words from another, scientific progress makes moral progress a necessity; for man’s power is increased, the checks that restrain him from abusing it must be strengthened.”
You reconnect your gaze with him, wondering if your explanation was satisfactory enough. Glancing down between the worn cover and your awaiting eyes, Alhaitham straightens his posture.
“So you knew the moral of this story.” A glint in his glass eyes.
“Well, I’ve read this book before,” you sigh at his inquest.
“Then why didn’t you learn from it?”
At that moment, the proud sun shielded itself away behind a cloak of clouds. Plunging the quiet library into a chill. How strange, why do you feel cold when a brilliant star of your creation stands right next to you?
“Alhaitham, you’re acting strange.” You take a step back as his scrutinizing gaze follows. Unaware of the crumbling edge approaching.
“How much longer will you continue to deceive yourself, wife?”
And that was it. The foundations of this mirage gave away under you, plunging you with much velocity into the depths of an unforgiving ocean. Tides that waited patiently to drag you down under.
Do you remember what happened that day? Do you really remember? The truth floods your being, engulfing every chasm of your mind.
–----
“Did you jump at the opportunity of a trip to avoid mopping the floors?” You glared up at your husband.
“My, how low do you think of me?” He glanced down, a wisp of mirth evident on his lips.
“Well, instead of doing chores, you’d be chaperoning your in-laws around Fontaine. A Poor trade-off in my opinion, dear husband.” A hand firmly placed on your hip in a defiant stance as the murmur of the crowded airport moved around your figures. An ever so mocking tone toward the end.
“A fair assumption, dear wife. However, I’ve taken the initiative to book a tour for your parents, thus they won’t need my assistance. I’ll be free to browse some of the latest ruins and research from the Institute in the meantime.” The ghost of a smirk grew ever so obvious with each word, mirroring your emphasis of titles.
Ah, this was your loss. It seems that your husband had it all planned out as usual when he offered to take your spot on the plane. The perfect excuse to use up some paid time off, while also scoring a trip to satisfy his own whims.
Your shoulders deflating in defeat as a deep sigh leaves you. You rest your head against his chest, the crowds moving around you in the bustling airport.
A private microcosm of him and you as he stands still, shielding you from the push and hustle of travelers trying to reach their terminal in time with his robust frame.
A bright clink of two rings pressed against each other lost in the noise.
“Why can’t you just stay?” You whispered into his shirt.
“How strange, the woman who married me to secure a home and mortgage wants me to stay now.”
You huffed into his in exasperation at him bringing up the origins of your union, an atypical start of a marriage.
His chest moved with a sigh, larger fingers intertwined with yours. The spaces fitted together, as he held them in his tender hold.
“They can’t refund it. If I take your seat and recompensate them, your parents aren’t likely to hold this matter over your head.” His deep voice expounded.
All you did was sigh, because he was right. Of course, he was. A sour taste on your tongue as you recall the interaction with your parents just a moment ago before you ran into the comfort of your husband.
“Besides, it’d be refreshing for me to scribble down some travel logs, it'd be a shame if my wife runs out of material to snoop through.”
“I just like looking at your handwriting,” you tutted, hiding your pout as you turned your face away.
The same excuse you used whenever you copied off his notes in a lecture hall and when your outstretched hand asked for them over a study table.
A silly habit of yours, perhaps in your mind it made sense. If you could read the words of a genius, then maybe you could learn to be like one.
“Of course, of course.” A smirk evident in his voice.
You refused to meet his gaze, cheeks a bit heated from this habit of yours being exposed. You thought you were always careful with returning his journal back where he placed it. Averting your eyes to the bright screens displaying departing flights. A few minutes left before the announcement comes. Your grasp on his hand tightened.
His thumb soothes your skin, leaning down closer to you.
“Besides its advanced technology, Fontaine is also famous for its toymakers. I should pick a few up for our future child, no?”
Blinking you as you glance back up at him. His teal irises reflect you as his expression softens just as yours did.
A room hidden away from the prying eye of nosy parents, its walls decorated with glow-in-the-dark stars. An assortment of items bought in advance for a child in the future. Stemming from whispers while recovering amongst dampen sheets in a room heavy with passion.
Talks of the future, once this troublesome Ph.D. is finished and your position in a lab secured, a discussion of whether a child would inherit more of his traits or yours.
Planned for the future, of course, now's just a bit too busy. However, it didn’t stop you from taking the initiative to furnish a spare room. A chaotic collection of cosmic influences along with an assortment of books meshing together to create an adoring space.
But the soft smile on your lips was still tense. Teal eyes took note of that, pulling you closer amidst this microcosm, a moment so subtle it went unnoticed by the attention of passer-byers.
“It’ll just be for a week,” his voice resonated in his chest. “Then I’ll come back and build that bassinet as my wife wishes.”
Finally, the glimmer he yearned to see returned to your eyes.
“You better, the box has been sitting unopened for a week now,” you huff with a smile.
He only hummed in acknowledgment as the ring of a loudspeaker resounded through the chatter. Announcing the final call for passengers boarding the flight to the Nation of Hydro. Casting a glance toward the terminal, he gave your hand one more squeeze before they reluctantly untangled from one another.
“You should get going now.” Your eyes reflect him.
He hums one last time, turning in the direction of the terminal where your parents were. Just before his tall figure was lost in the sea of passing bodies, your lips couldn’t keep themselves pressed together any longer.
“Haitham!” You called out.
The fluorescent lights reflected off his starlight hair as he turned back around. Connect teal eyes with yours. But not another word left your lips, no they’d simply be drowned out in the clammer of strangers. Besides, it’s just too public to say such words aloud.
Thus, you slowly close your eyes, opening them back up just as steadily with the soft curl of your lips. A motion he reciprocated with a slow blink of his own, a hint of a smile on his stoic lips. A wordless gesture kept a secret between only the two of you, a silent ‘I love you’. It was all you needed to convey this message to each other.
He continued on his path to the terminal as you stood amongst the crowd, watching him fade into the distance.
–----
So how did that moment turn into this? How did a trip that was supposed to only be a week turn into a news report? How did well wishes for a safe trip turn into coworkers and friends approaching you with nothing but sympathy in their words? Those vile, pitied stares directed toward your rigid frame.
You should’ve been the one on that plane.
Only about 1 in about 11 million. A 0.00001% chance, a nonzero chance.
Plans no matter how intricate or detailed, their success all hang on a single thread, one factor unable to be cultivated by human hands: Luck.
Oh how cruel they are, those capricious hands of gods. Not even the leniency of returning to a lonely planet the corpses of their stars. Traces of a beloved star left to sink and disappear in a cold, salty grave. Never to return to the surface.
You and Alhaitham were two simple dots in this world, so why did they target you two? Why steal him from you with their cruel hands? Why steal him and leave you abandoned with nothing but the memory of the warm starlight?
You had so…so much love left inside you. But it went stagnant. Sitting there rotting until it poisoned you, throwing you into feverish delirium. If the gods abandoned you, then you resolved to abandon them right back.
You’ll bring back your star, you’ll defy the edicts of the gods with your bare hands. You’ll sin the same way a god does.
“Casting aside your morals, you allowed the dead to walk again through a sham imitation, congratulations. ” His voice matched one which could only come from an engineered throat.
This was a fool's errand.
For how could a mere human ever be arrogant enough to believe they could best the gods? This was the hindsight you lacked. Perhaps what’s separated you from the gifted and blessed geniuses? Something geniuses knew but you couldn’t see.
The accursed doctorate on the wall meant nothing, you were nothing but a mad fool.
Perhaps, if you were a genius, a true and born genius, you’d know what to do. You’d know how to mend this dilemma. You’d know what to do instead of letting your vision be blurred by imprudent tears as your throat could only choke out,
“I’m sorry.” Words you knew couldn’t turn back the hands of a clock which only knew how to tick forward.
“But now what?” Deep voice unmoved by your wasted words.
You didn’t dare meet his stare, for you feared you’d catch a glimpse of the bitterness behind them as he cursed you deep down in the whir of his motor. You could only stay silent as tears ignited in your eyes, waiting for him to continue with his damnation.
“In a climate like Sumeru’s, it would take approximately 25 years or so for a body to fully decompose, bones reduced to nothing but nutrients for the soil. Silicone alone takes 500 years, a metal frame could take another 500.” He knows now that he’s not a human, he was never meant to be.
He’s a crude replacement. An abomination who’ll remain until the day the night sky flickers out.
“You brought him back, only to condemn him to eventual loneliness. Only to curse ‘me’ to live the next aeons without you”
An irresponsible and shameless villain who disregarded consequences until those consequences came to collect their dues. It’s time that you faced your punishment.
A hand cups around your stiff face, gradually turning your head until you see your reflection along glass irises.
“How will you atone for your sins now? How will you take responsibility for making me fall in love with you?… my very own Dr. Frankenstein.” His voice restrained.
Yes, a story you’ve read before. A lesson unfolded out in front of you, and yet you somehow forgot. Or perhaps, you simply averted your eyes from the moral of the story while simultaneously committing the same transgression. Did you think yourself better than the fictional lunatic?
The atrocity of giving life, only to eventually abandon it, leaving it to watch the stars burn out in a cage of harsh fluorescent lights and white lab coats.
The millions of mora poured into his development, the materials which construct his form, and the proprietary technology which gives him thought. Did you believe even for a moment that the prideful Fontainian Research Institute and the arrogant Kshahrewar Darshan would simply hand over such an investment?
To allow their expenditure to follow you to eternity?
You couldn’t live without him, but now he’ll have to live without you.
Oh, what shall you do now? Oh, what can you do now? Did you even know where to begin? How did the story of Frankenstein end? How would she have written the ending of this scene?
When human rational meets its limits, when its capacity isn’t enough to compute all possible prospects. Humans look towards something that could, technological advancements made to further humanity.
“W-what do I do now?” You prompt, no, you beg.
Watching the rivulets roll down your cheeks, leaving a path of glimmering desperation, he ponders to himself:
When you first proposed this project to the Akademiya and Institute, when you detailed the specifications of his body and face, were they aware of your true intentions?
Rather than this being an experiment to see if an android could cross the threshold of humanity. Maybe those researchers were curious to see how far one could fall in the paroxysm of grief.
You became the perfect test subject to observe.
But now that the curtains were pulled back, what shall you do about the aftermath? There was never a precedent for a transgression of this scale. No holy commandment ever details a rightful punishment for this sin. No historical data he could infer from.
“I don’t know,” he answers you truthfully.
It’s just an untold void like the vacuums of space. No results generated in his mind, leaving the both of you suspended in oblivion. Maybe that was the punishment in itself, stuck in the purgatory of the unknown. Perhaps this was the punishment bestowed upon a foolish sinner.
Upon hearing your sentencing, your knees begin to buckle under the weight of the judgment from above. Resigned grasp clinging to his hand still cradling your face, his engineered frame not budging in the slightest. Voice staggered as only pitiful and broken apologies resonate in a vacant house.
All he could do was wipe those scorching droplets off your cheeks as they seared his skin. Was this feature also programmed into him by your hands? If so, then he muses to himself:
Did the hands who penned down those words also revert into nothing more than a pathetic fool at the mere sight of your tears? Did his chest also grow heavier with each choked sob that left you?
Perhaps the chains which bind his hands tethered yours just the same. A pair of foolish sinners.
Thus, he’s resolved himself to be thrown into the unmerciful clutches of this untold purgatory right alongside you. Even if he’s the only one to remain in the end.
To be human is to be unthignkably foolish after all. As long as he could still hold onto a wisp of you for the inevitable aeons.
It’s fine.
Fin~
©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS.
#alhaitham x you#vivalabunbunfics#alhaitham fanfic#yandere alhaitham#alhaitham smut#genshin smut#genshin fluff#genshin x you#genshin x reader#yandere genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#alhaitham fluff#genshin impact x you#genshin x reader smut#genshin angst#alhaitham angst#alhaitham x reader#genshin impact#alhaitham x yn#alhaitham x y/n#genshin x y/n#alhaitham x reader smut#genshin android au#genshin x reader fluff#yandere genshin x you#yandere smut
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I would like to give out some technical cyborg tips for people who write Boothill!!!
Cyborg ≠ Robot. Robots are entirely machine (SCREWLLUM is a robot)… a cyborg is part human part machine. And when I say part human I am SPECIFICALLY talking about the brain. A cyborg is literally a human brain encased in a mechanical body. There could be nothing organic in the body— no skin, bones, veins, nerves, etc— but as long as there is a human brain running it, it is still a cyborg. Boothill’s head is almost entirely organic— but his eyes were probably tinkered with and given enhancements.
Do cyborgs need sleep? Yes. A human brain is still a human brain, and the brain NEEDS sleep to function. However, they may not need to sleep as often as a normal human does.
Do cyborgs need to eat? Yes (Kind of)!! Again, it’s a human brain, and the brain needs nutrients or it will begin to eat itself. Now, HOW the nutrients is acquired is subjective. Some cyborgs may eat normally, while some might have other ways to receive the nutrients they need. How? Not sure. Maybe they have a reserve somewhere in their body that supplies nutrients to the brain.
Do cyborgs need to bathe? Also subjective. It probably depends on how much of the cyborg’s body has been altered. If it’s still mostly organic then yeah, probably. But in Boothill’s case he might just need to spiff it up every now and then (kind of like washing a car), there’s probably special treatments for bodies like his. He does have to wash his hair regularly, though. “Can he get wet?” I think he can handle a few splashes/travel in the rain, but I’m not sure if he can submerge himself in a body of water.
Can cyborgs feel physical touch? THIS is subjective, but honestly, I don’t think they can. We have receptors in our body that allow us to feel things— I don’t think you can replicate that in a mechanical body. I do think he has special sensors that can perceive the closeness of a foreign object/another person, but I don’t think he can FEEL them.
Anyways, that’s all for now. Hope this helps!!!
#hsr x reader#honkai star rail x reader#boothill x reader#ALSO HE IS NOT A COWBOY HE IS A RANGER#THERE IS A DIFFERENCE
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Hi! I was wondering if you could help me out with a word I've forgotten? I'm trying to remember the name for a concept that (I think) talks about how people better understand or process Things once they have vocabulary to describe it - I've heard it talked about in regards to the colour orange, or coercive control, etc.
long story short i've just read a paper saying ancient Greeks and Romans weren't racist bc they had no word for racism and am trying to form an argument against!
(no worries if this is unanswerable, i'm aware its a bit of a long shot but you struck me as a person who Knows Things)
That’s extremely kind and funny of you. i don’t know much but i am ok at synthesis.
I think you might be thinking of the concepts loosely called the “Sapir-Whorf hypothesis”, which describes something called “linguistic determinism.” This idea has been “disproven”, as it is just too reductionist as a concept - people are clearly perfectly capable of having experiences that are tough to describe with words. There will be plenty of papers showing how this reasoning is applied.
but it is still commonly thrown around and still considered a useful teaching framework. That’s why you’ll see it referenced online as if it is fresh, new, and applicable - people learn about it every year in college. Also, elements of the framework are probably perfectly sound. It definitely seems to be the case that language shapes brains; it just doesn’t seem to be the case that humans who don’t have specific words for them can’t experience orange, or the future.
(Many things in college are taught using teaching frameworks that may not be, technically, true; the framework is intended to give a critical structure for interpreting information. Then, when we later find evidence that disproves the hypothesis, that single piece of information doesn’t destroy our expensive college education; what we paid for is the framework. This is mostly frustrating in the sciences, when fresh crops of undergraduate students crash around on social media, grappling with their first exposure to (complex concept) and how it’s DIFFERENT to what they learned BEFORE and their teachers LIED TO EVERYBODY and they’re going to save the world from POP SCIENCE by telling the TRUTH. You’ll notice that these TOTALLY NEW INFORMATION reveals map along the semester schedule. The thing here is that getting new information, or information being different from what you were previously told, does not cancel out the fact that you are getting what you pay for - an education. Learning new facts that change our relationships to hypotheses isn’t a ✨huge betrayal ✨ , but the expected process of academia. Anyway.)
You have an interesting response here, and can start by looking at the ways that Sapir-Whorf has been disproved. There will be loads of literature on that.
However, it would be interesting to look at the argument as an unpicking of the other side’s rather weird, ritualistic superstitious belief that a behavior doesn’t exist if the creatures doing it can’t describe it. It is not on the ancient Greeks and Romans to categorise and interpret their behavior for a modern educated audience. They do not have the wherewithal to do so. They are also fucking dead. We can name the behaviors we see, and describe their impacts, however the hell we like.
Sure, the ancient Greeks used “cancer” to refer to lumpy veiny tumors. We can infer that they still had blood cancer, because their medical texts describe leukaemia and their corpses have evidence of it - they just didn’t know it was cancer. But we do, so we can call it cancer. Just because Homer said “the wine-dark sea” in a flight of girlish whimsy doesn’t mean he was unable to distinguish grape juice from saltwater, which we know, because we can observe that he was an intelligent wordsmith perfectly capable of talking about wine and oceans in other contexts. We are the people who get to stand at our point of history with our words, and name things like “this person probably died of leukaemia” and “poets say things that aren’t necessarily literal” and “this behaviour was racist” and “that’s gay” and “togas kinda slay tho” despite Ancient Greeks having different concepts of cancer, wittiness, prejudice, homosexuality, and slaying than we do today.
Now just to caveat that people do get muddled about the concept of racism. Our understanding of racism from here - this point of history, with these words, probably from the West - is heavily influenced by how we see racism around us today: white supremacy and the construct of “whiteness,” European colonial expansion, transatlantic chattel slavery, orientalism, evangelism, 20th century racial science, and so on. This is the picture of racism that really dominates our current discourse, so people often mistake it for the definition of racism. (Perhaps in a linguistic-deterministic sort of way after all.) As a result, muddled-up people often say things like “I can’t be racist because I’m not a white American who throws slurs at black American people,” while being an Indian person in the UK who votes for vile anti-immigration practices, or a Polish person with a horrible attitude about the Roma. Many people genuinely hold this very kindergarten idea of racism; if your opponent does as well, they’re probably thinking something like “Ancient Greek and Roman people didn’t have a concept of white supremacy, because whiteness hadn’t been invented yet, so how could they be racist?” And that’s unsound reasoning in a separate sense.
Racism as the practice of prejudice against an ethnicity, particularly one that is a minority, is a power differential that is perfectly observable in ancient cultures. The beliefs and behaviors will be preserved in written plays, recorded slurs, beauty standards, reactions to foreign marriages, and travel writing. The impacts will be documented in political records, trade agreements, the layouts of historical districts of ancient towns.
You don’t need permission to point out behaviours and impacts. You can point them out in any words you like. You can make up entirely new words to bully the ancient romans with. You are the one at this point of history and your words are the ones that get used.
Pretending that “words” are some kind of an intellect-obscuring magical cloud in the face of actual evidence is just a piece of sophistry (derogatory) on the part of your opponent here. It’s meant to be a distraction. You can dismiss this very flimsy shield pretty quickly and get them in the soft meat of them never reading anything about the actual material topic, while they’re still looking up dictionary definitions or whatever.
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Have you ever thought about how much of Astarion's appeal and charisma comes from Neil Newbon (his voice actor, if anyone in the community somehow doesn't know it) himself?
I think the latest find of the Baldurian community is discovering what happens after you find & approach Petras without Astarion in the team - he obviously tries to seduce you and lure you into Cazadorr's palace, repeating almost the same lines Astarion throws at Tav in the first act.
And he's so terrible at it. Like, you immediately feel something's off. Anyone with half a brain would immediately be alarmed.
It's got me thinking.
Of course Astarion's ultimate goal, as we meet him, is different - he's not trying to lead you astray at his master's command, but secure support from someone he's come to see as a powerful ally - but we still perceive him differently than this other attractive obscene seducer.
We all know Astarion is beautiful and a sexy vampire, tralalalala. Cazadorr picked his spawn all too well - none of his later slaves were as masterful "creations" as his first one. But don't forget that 100% intentional 10 charisma skill. Astarion's confident, cheeky, smooth - tongued, arogant, perfectly put together, way, way more attractive than his vampiric "siblings", he just has that special, intoxicating "something", but by right - he should not, by any means, be as charismatic as he is. We all know his terrible pick up lines, we all know how dorky and childish he can be when caught off-guard, we are aware just how borderline close to "cringe and desperate" his flirting techniques are, in the greater picture.
Yet we swoon over him because somehow this shtick works - through the sweet charisma he's technically supposed not to really have.
Where does it come from then? From Neil.
If you've ever watched any of Neil's streams, you'll quickly notice how much of a driven, confident and charismatic person he is. All in good taste, without ever coming across as full of himself. A genuinely amazing, passionate, incredibly talented and accomplished, but still kind and generous, beautiful human being. And all of those qualities - the best, healthiest kind of charisma - transfer to Astarion through the top - notch voice acting.
Imagine for a second what might have been if Astarion was voiced by someone still incredibly talented, with a great and fitting voice, but simply slightly less charismatic, a different kind of personality breathing life into him in the recording booth and in motion capture. Would we still get the same kind of character we've all come to adore so much? Would he be as convincing?
I don't have an answer to that - just something to ponder.
But I think that's also proof that some characters require an actor who becomes irreplacable in the role, just that one specific, one-of-a-kind type of person who will bring them to life exactly as they're meant to be. And we're so lucky Larian found Neil for Astarion, and Astarion found Neil.
#baldur's gate astarion#astarion#baldur's gate 3#baldur's gate 3 astarion#baldurs gate astarion#bg3#bg3 astarion#astarion bg3#baldurs gate 3#astarion meta#baldur's gate 3 meta#baldur's gate 3 neil newbon#neil newbon
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excerpt from an in-progress "the Core Four gets a clonebaby and it's not even Tim's fault" fic
Kon has a bruise on his face and is bleeding from the mouth and has a four year-old sitting on his hip all wrapped up in his studded leather jacket. Tim finds seeing him bleeding more concerning than the sight of the kid, because while Kon isn't necessarily the first choice to comfort the traumatized civilians, he's done it plenty of times and he'll no doubt do it plenty more.
Also, like, the whole street is on fire. What, is he gonna put the kid down?
The kid is barefoot and wearing a white bodysuit, it looks like. They have pale skin and fluffy black chin-length hair and huge hazel eyes–a hazel that's practically yellow in the light of the burning street, it's so bright–and they're small and slender, but also surprisingly muscular for their age.
And surprisingly alert, Tim can't help but notice. Their eyes are subtly darting around, hypervigilant to a fault, and they're visibly just clocking things. They've already threat-assessed him, Cassie, and Bart, and they're obviously watching out for anyone else and simultaneously keeping an eye on the guttering flames and broken ground and surrounding street in general.
The bad guys left out here are technically all down and thoroughly zip-tied into submission, but the kid assesses them all too, one by one.
Tim gets a weird itch in the back of his brain, and Kon brings the kid over to the rest of them.
Their eyes aren't hazel, Tim realizes. They actually are yellow.
A very specific, familiar yellow.
"What's with the kid?" Bart asks, narrowing his very specific, familiar eyes curiously. "Like, why are you bringing the kid, I mean, not 'why does the kid exist?' That's a different question, obviously, like really why do any of us–"
"They're ours," Kon says.
Bart stops talking.
"Um?" he says.
"What do you mean they're 'ours'?" Cassie says.
"Show 'em that thing you showed me, kiddo?" Kon asks the kid, patting their back. They nod solemnly. Then they vibrate into a blur that phases right through Kon's arms, leather jacket and all. Kon makes no effort to catch them, apparently because he knows it's unnecessary, because a second later the kid is floating up into the air over all their heads.
Tim blinks, very slowly. Tilts his head.
Kon wiggles his fingers at the kid, who noises very quietly and reaches down to grab at his hand. Kon grins up at them and holds his arms open, and the kid settles back into them . . . not warily, exactly? But very definitely uncertainly. Like it's something unfamiliar.
Not like Kon is unfamiliar. Like being held is unfamiliar.
"Okay, huh," Bart says. "Well that sure was the Speed Force."
"And that sure is a Greek demigod," Cassie says.
"Sure is," Kon says agreeably. "And I'll give you two guesses as to where the attached unenhanced human DNA came from, Boy Wonder."
"Kon, what the hell?" Tim says in bemusement. "What even . . . what, exactly?"
"Remember that weird green light earlier?" Kon asks conversationally as he pets the kid's back. "The one that just kinda flashed all up in your respective businesses while I was inside punching asshole scientists after the comms got fried?"
"Yes," Tim replies warily. "I assumed it was supposed to be some kind of distraction."
"It was a DNA scanner," Kon says.
"Ah," Tim says, and wonders how the hell he's going to explain this to Bruce.
"Apparently, these shits decided the best way to handle invading superheroes was to just copy their DNA and then make speed-gro clones who could counteract their abilities," Kon says, jerking his head back towards the TTK-ruined remains of the lab. "With, obviously, a healthy side of brainwashing and indoctrination programming uploaded directly into their developing brains. But literally everyone and their mother underestimates the range of TTK, so I kinda just broke the lab and now, welllll . . ."
"So the kid is a Greek demigod with a Speed Force connection and a Bat-brain?" Cassie asks.
"Apparently," Kon says, nuzzling the kid's ridiculously floofy black hair. "Sorry, kiddo, I'd have given you TTK if I'd gotten the option, but we made the fatal error that is splitting the party. Then again, now you won't wanna puke if you ever run into kryptonite, so could be worse? And also you not getting TTK meant I was on deck to save you from getting grown into a teenage superweapon, so that was probably worth it, right? Like, not that we wouldn't have let you join the team in that case, but clone to clone, I hear actual childhoods are kinda cool and all."
Well, Tim thinks it's safe to make some assumptions about why Kon said "they're ours" and not "they're yours".
"Huh," Cassie says, looking bemused.
". . . honestly I just can't believe this isn't Rob's fault," Bart says, darting over to peer more closely at the kid, who frowns at him.
"I'm not that bad," Tim protests reflexively. The others all give him pitying looks. "Don't look at me like that, I'm not!"
"Yes you are," Cassie says dryly, then steps in closer towards Kon and the kid too and smiles at them. "Hey there, little guy. What's your name?"
The kid stares blankly at her, then curls up tighter in Kon's jacket–and, probably not incidentally, his arms–and presses in closer against him.
"No," they say. Cassie blinks.
"'No'?" she repeats in confusion.
"Babe, they're five minutes out of the cloning tube," Kon says wryly. "They don't have a name."
". . . we should fix that," Cassie says. "Like. Immediately, let's fix that."
"Yeah, I'm on board with that," Kon agrees. "Any suggestions?"
"Are you a boy or a girl?" Tim asks the kid, because at this age it's hard to tell. He's assuming boy, since two male gene donors to one female, but who knows, really.
"I'm a clone," the kid says, looking at him like they think he's stupid.
"Gender-neutral name it is," Kon says, clearly unconcerned by that very concerning response.
"Max?" Bart offers immediately and unsurprisingly, visibly perking up. Which, well–not the worst name for a speedster anyway, Tim supposes.
"Blake," Cassie suggests. "Avery, Channing, Charlie, Aubrey, Kirby, Morgan, Sage, Shiloh–"
"You're hanging out with Cissie a lot again, huh," Bart observes.
"Like you're not?" Cassie huffs, tweaking his nose before continuing with: "Ash, Casey, Jo, Sam, Maddox . . ."
"Alex?" Tim tries, mostly because Cassie's offering a lot of unusual-sounding options and that might not be ideal.
Bart and Cassie eye him. Kon raises an eyebrow in a very Luthor-esque fashion.
Tim experiences the five stages of grief and quickly moves on.
"Uh, or Jace," he says. "Or . . . Harley?"
Wait, those are terrible too.
"No," the kid says, frowning at all of them.
"None of those sound good?" Kon asks them. The kid's frown deepens and they press closer against him, still eyeing the rest of them just a little bit sullenly.
"I don't want one of their names," they say with obvious distaste, and also much clearer annunciation than a typical four year-old would have. "I want one from you."
"Oh," Kon says, blinking a couple times. "Yeah, okay, kiddo. Um . . . you sure?"
"Yes," the kid says.
"Okay," Kon says, and tightens his grip on them a little. And then, surprisingly quickly–"Kenley Elliot. And we can hash out your last name later, that's gonna have to be a later thing. How's that sound? You want it?"
"Yes," the kid repeats, and then throws their arms around Kon's neck and squeezes. It looks a bit closer to a chokehold than a hug, but Kon a) is a half-Kryptonian clone, and b) clearly doesn't care.
"Cool," he says, and swallows a little roughly. "Okay, well, that's squared away. Let's get the fuck out of here before some asshole with a badge tries to take custody of Kenley."
Tim did not miss the "Kent" and "El" concealed in either of those names, or how quickly Kon had them to hand. Not as quick as Bart had "Max", obviously, but . . .
Very quickly, all the same.
Alright, then.
#superboy#dc robin#wonder girl#dc impulse#young justice#rinfic#long post#wip: yj accidental baby acquisition
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It is October, and you know what that means! Maria gets to commit a war crime as a birthday gift. Honestly, on the list of things nobody asked for I'm pretty sure smut with Kenjaku is like way up there, but it's my birthday (at the end of the month) and I get to chose the war crime!
Kenjaku x Reader. 1.3k words
NSFW, minors leave. tw for: dubcon, manipulation, Kenjaku's stitches snapping, brain fluid, a little bit of the brain too
When Kenjaku took over Geto's body he kept the cult, at least for a while. they were an useful logistical asset and source of income - something even he needed from time to time. he was still living amongst normal humans, inhabiting flesh. there would always be some material needs that were an unescapable reality.
Kenjaku himself didn't really care for those things, he was an existence beyond just human by this point. but while the bodies he inhabited were technically dead, while he gave continuity to their existence, they still had needs. itches to be scratched. some boring and a chore, but others fun and enjoyable to indulge in.
He prized himself in living life fully, afterall, and some of those itches were delightful parts of a life fully lived.
And that's how Kenjaku found himself watching you when you weren't looking. eyes following your form from dark hallways and tall windows. you were a part of Suguru Geto's old group. a pretty thing, a sorcerer, not especially powerful but good with barriers and very devoted. devoted and smitten with him.
Well, smitten with Geto.
But this was not Geto. not anymore, though you were still blissfully unaware of that. sure, you found the stitches across his forehead strange, everyone did, but Kenjaku was good at imitating the original personality of his host body. and anyone still alive in Geto's little group was already primed to believe whatever their leader said.
So you accepted every excuse, went along with the charade, followed him around faithfully. it was cute, really, almost like a puppy following it's owner. a devotion you don't come accross very often nowadays. you enjoyed every once of attention he gave you, ate up every crumb of affection.
Kenjaku enjoyed it, he found it fun, like a silly little game. he had you wrapped around his finger and even he wasn't beyond seeing the appeal of toying with someone like that. sure, he could just take what he wanted, but that would be all business and no play, boring. so he kept leading you around on a long, long leash until he found it was time to close the gap.
Slowly he began cornering you in situations where he would be so close. so affectionate. physical, even. like a mockingbird, Kenjaku speaks and even smiles in a mimicry of Geto's kind demeanor. he tucks your hair behind your ear with a gentle touch, caresses your face softly at random moments, holds your hand in his warm one when no one is around. and you fall for it, like easy prey.
Soon enough he has you alone in an empty room, body pressed against his as you sit on a table. you were completly nude before him while he still had his kimono and the innermost layer of his robes on, having discarded his pants and outermost layers. his clothes hung open on his body, but they still shielded most of it. this was good for Kenjaku, your full nakedness brought another layer of vulnerability to your situation that he enjoyed throughfully.
It doesn't take much take much for you to give into him, just a few soft words and a little bit of pressure and you already bend. you'd do anything for Geto anyway, so he might as well just hitch a ride on all of that devotion. who is him to burst your bubble? it's a small merciful lie, letting you believe it's your dearest cult leader burying his cock into your pussy instead of Kenjaku. out of sight out of mind, as they say.
So he fucks himself into you under the cover of that silly lie, going deep and hard, taking your body for his pleasure. he abuses your mouth and takes your body for his pleasure, slamming into your pussy mercilessly until tears are spilling from your eyes. Kenjaku finds your tears to be alluring, your whines of 'too much' so enticing, urging him to move faster and harder.
He likes the touch of sweaty skin, the broken sounds, the trembling bodies. you are clawing at his back and neck and Kenjaku laughs at just how weak you feel under him, pussy clenching tight with your every pitiful cry. you bury your hand in his long hair making him hiss when you grip him. oh, that's almost dangerous, the stitches around his forehead still too fresh for this type of rough treatment - but this could be fun.
Kenjaku groans as he feels pleasure building higher, hips moving faster and deeper into you. you've got bite marks and hickeys all over your chest and neck, and he is sure you'll have bruises on the shape of his fingers all over your body. you are crying and shaking in pleasure, so clearly overwhelmed as his tongue pushes its way into your mouth. the hand on his hair pulls harder, fingers treading on his locks when you give it a harsh tug, making the stitches on his head start snapping.
It all happens fast, the snapping of the stitches, the separating of the skin. at first not much, just enough for liquid to start to flow down his face while he thrusts hard into you. but soon it changes, more liquid spilling down his mouth and into yours, his hips never stopping their vicious hammering. that's when you notice something is wrong, the strange liquid coating your tongue and feeling wet on your face.
You don't even scream, only emitting a high pitched whine in therror when you look up at what you think is Geto. your eyes meet the gap between the two pieces of his skull from where you are pulling at the scalp, Kenjaku's undone stitches leaving a large open gap, brain visible underneath. you freeze, and he just finds it more endearing, having no mercy as he keeps fucking into you faster and faster. the fear and confusion in your eyes only make him feel closer to his orgasm.
"w-what are you?" you whimper, too weak to even properly protest against him, both hands drpping to his arms.
"what do you mean," Kenjaku says with a smile, "it's me, your dear Suguru, what's wrong, sweetheart?" he whispers against your ear.
"what's going on," you cry out, swiping your fingers over the liquid dripping in your face, and he coos at how pitiful it sounds.
"shhhh, dear, what's gotten into you," he sushes you softly, but the pistoning of his hips doesn't match the gentleness of his voice. "hold still, I'm almost there."
You are shaking, glancing between your fingers and the gash on his hand. he can't tell if your whimpering and whining is from his abuse of your pussy or from the sight you've just had - but it doesn't matter anyways, the sweet sounds pushing him over the edge either way. Kenjaku buries himself deep in you, pulling your body flush against his as he paints your walls white with his thick cum. you cry out when he pulls your body into his forcefully but that's the measure of your protest, otherwise you just take what he gives.
When he looks back at you, the mimicry of a soft smile painted on his, he finds you still wide eyed and confused. yeah, Kenjaku can imagine that this is one hell of a way to find you the truth. he licks a spot of the liquid that dropped on your face, shushing you gently as he pulls out, your pussy gaping from his abuse and leaking his thick seed. he looks back at you, smiling wide and already redoing the stitches on his head. You look up at him so confused, so vulnerable - it's adorable. maybe he should try to find a way to keep you around.
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"I will solve you if I must."
Arkinot knew what humans looked like. They were half his size, soft, pink, and easily bullied. He knew this because he’d spent the last two weeks terrifying a team of human diplomats sent to negotiate trade deals. It was something of a science to him at this point: Small but weak species sends in their diplomats, he spends a week or two terrifying them in close quarters, then he offers them some dogshit trade deals in exchange for getting to leave early. They take the deal, he gets richer, and in a manner of speaking, the universe becomes a better place. Being a coward was the kind of thing that really should be taxed, and he liked to think of his negotiation style as exactly that: A coward tax.
Still, that was far dominating his thoughts at the moment. The conundrum his brain was struggling to untangle was that he knew what a human looked like, and the thing in front of him was not a human. It wore human robes, but underneath the robes, it appeared to be a tank that someone had glued several monitors to. Maybe even an antennae of some kind. It was such a chaotic jumble that it was almost funny. The one part of it that really seemed to be going too far was the badge sewn into the front designating it as an official diplomat.
He stepped a few feet closer to inspect the possible art piece. He barely had begun to reach his hand forward to lift the tent sized robe when a mechanical claw pushed forward and clasped around his arm, painless but implacable.
“What the fuck-”
He didn’t hear the voice from the thing, nor did he hear it in his mind, as he’d felt with some of the telepathic races. The voice of this abomination felt like it was being physically projected directly inside his own ear, as if its mouth was just a fraction of a centimeter away from his ear drum.
“Arkinot.”
He threw up. The words weren’t loud but they seemed to have some kind of disproportionate effect on his balancing organs. The world was sent spinning and he could barely tell up from down. A second bolt of pain blossomed, this time from the back of his head. It took him a good moment to realize that he’d fallen flat on his back. He didn’t know a simple sound could cause so much damage.
And then it continued.
“You make threats you have no ability to back up. You will learn.”
Even with his senses scrambled, he could feel something cold and metallic pressed into his hand. He was too incoherent to guess what.
He wasn’t sure if the voice retracted from his ear out of pity, or because it knew that it had proved its point, but he was grateful to hear the rest of the message without feeling like someone was trying to jam stakes into his brain.
“A copy has already been sent to your high command. Your ‘diplomacy’ has already been bypassed. This is simply a personal education on the nature of human violence. Summon me when you understand.”
He rolled over to see the thing lurching down the hall. Even in his disoriented state, he could see something human in it, something imperceptibly satisfied with the message it had delivered. Part of him wondered if there was some small lump of flesh buried deep inside that horror, or if it was just mind made metal, an engram with form.
Perhaps sensing his gaze, it paused. It didn’t turn around, but he doubted that its vision was as limited as eyes were. The voice projected forward again, mercifully short of his ear, but still too close for comfort. He could almost imagine the hot breath of it bouncing off his face, mere millimeters away from his face.
“I will know when you are done. Do not make me find you.”
---
It had taken him half an hour to work up the will to pull himself up from his pool of stale vomit, and another ten minutes to stagger back to his cabin. He’d needed to lean against the wall for the entire walk back. He was genuinely concerned that his balance had been permanently damaged.
He did his first inspection of the object he’d been gifted. It was, technically, a data slate, but that was somewhat akin to calling a reactor a steam engine. The specs on it didn’t even make sense to him. What the hell was an exaHz? What was a Bekenstein limit? How could storage be at 137% of it? Couldn’t be much of a limit if it went over 100.
The device seemed to recognize it was being inspected and raised a query of its own.
User: Arkinot?
He nodded dumbly. The slate whirred for a few seconds, genuinely struggling to process what it was about to do.
And then it began.
---
Arkinot stumbled out of the room seventeen hours later. He wasn’t terrified. He’d run out of the emotional energy needed to feel fear after the first two hours of calm, methodical instruction presented to him by the dataslate.
He had learned about the nature of human violence. It was no hot blooded slaughter, no prayer of eternal vengeance. It was an industrial event to them, something to be mass produced until the market flooded over and peace became the new commodity of choice.
And they could do that. Easily. He’d seen blueprints for factories that built factories that built factories. Replicating swarms of mining bots.
The smallest time vs. production curve he’d seen was for their assault cruisers, and it was still a fourth order polynomial. If for some reason they needed to wage war for over a year, they could feasibly consume more than 30% of the mass of their first three industrial worlds.
And they had more than forty left in reserve.
He’d assume earlier that he was arguing from a position of strength because they didn’t have an active armada. He realized that the reason they hadn’t bothered was because they’d be able to produce one as large as his entire species fleet in under 48 hours.
His balance was back. He barely noticed. He followed the same path he had before, noticed in an offhanded way that the vomit had been cleaned. The human diplomat must have called that in. He certainly hadn’t.
He was now in the human section of the station, and while he could sense a wariness in the steps of the pink things around him, it was hardly the full blown fear he’d managed to instill just 24 hours before. They knew that they’d managed to summon a stronger predator than him.
He knew it too.
The door that he’d been summoned to was a repurposed garage. He supposed nothing else would fit someone so large. He knocked twice on the corrugated steel before it began to roll up.
The robes were gone. Still no visible flesh, but at least with all the machinery in sight he had a better idea of what he was looking at. He still didn't see any pink skin there, but he didn't have to when he could see rack after rack of eletroneural interfaces.
So there was a brain in there. A human brain. Probably very little else.
A faint twitch of its insectoid legs gave away its impatience. Ah. So it was waiting for him to speak.
“You didn’t need… Damn. How large was that presentation?”
The voice was almost offhanded in its response.
“208 yottabytes.”
Arkinot’s brain skipped over the scale of that number. It was absurdly massive. Apparently, everything that the humans really put their minds to turned absurdly massive.
“You didn’t need 208 yottabytes to say that you could kick our asses.”
The faint twitching gave away, replaced by an uncanny stillness. It wasn’t the frozen stiffness of a robot, it was the tense, rigid posture of someone showing a considerable amount of restraint.
“No. You certainly didn’t when you said that to us. What I needed 208 yottabytes for was showing you how I would ‘kick your asses.’ It is worth considering how much scarier that is than your empty words.”
There was a brief noise, like rustling through the speaker, and he realized that the machine had done the purely auditory equivalent of taking a breath. The action was somehow more unsettling than the purely mechanical affect he’d seen before. It made him realize just how close any of the other soft pink things running around the halls were to becoming something like this, something that could crush him with a thought.
His thoughts were interrupted by the man-machine’s closing words, tired but dangerous.
“Do not threaten our diplomats again. It is their job to be patient. It is my job to solve problems. I will solve you if I must.”
That same tired voice spoke again, millimeters from his ear.
“Now, don't let me detain you.”
He did what any sane sapient would do.
He ran.
#hfy#humanity fuck yeah#humans are space oddities#science fiction#scifi#humans are space orcs#creative writing#writing#cybernetics
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Children of the Night Part 2 (Steddie X You)
A/N: Shhhhhhhhh my angsty brain has entered the chat :P.
Warnings: Vampire Daddy Eddie/ Human (kinda switch) Steve/ Human Sub Fem Reader, SMUT, daddy kink (cause Im me), voyeurism (kinda; Eddie watches his baby girl and baby boy play), FLUFF, Steve talks about how he and Eddie first got together and their matching tattoos, ANGST (Sooooo much angst), Reader gets hurt (Shot) and the boys have to do sudo surgery to help her, blood drinking is mentioned in a bit of detail, reader touches on her rough childhood (brief), mentions of homophobia from their town and Steve's parents as well as some people online, Eddie waking up in the upside down is mentioned near the end.
Certain events from the show are mentioned (the deaths) but in this AU they'd happen in 2003 not 1986. I think that's everything.
Word count: 6110
When you woke up the next afternoon, Steve was missing and Eddie was fast asleep on his back beside you. Your eyes took a moment to fully take him in as you scanned the tattoos on his bare chest. He had a few mundane ones but a couple struck your attention. Near his heart was a month and a year; March 2003. Along one of his left ribs were lyrics from a song you knew fairly well; “You’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be” along with the initials S.H. and the year 2002.
Getting out of bed, you went on the hunt for Steve and found him in their kitchen washing dishes.
“Hey, Y/N.”
“Hi, Steve.”
The man softly smiles along with you as you reiterate each other’s names.
“Are you hungry? I can make you a sandwich.” When you nod he begins heading towards the fridge before pausing to face you again. “Um, full disclosure, Eddie’s blood that he snacks on is in here as well. It’s not…like…open or anything but I thought I should tell you just in case it makes you uncomfortable or…”
“Oh, no. It’s ok. I don’t mind.” Grinning at your answer, he pulls out everything he needs and places it on the counter. “If he has blood in the fridge then why does he feed on you? Is it different?”
“Uh, kind of. Think about it kind of like how we humans snack between meals.” His gentle honey eyes glance your way before he continues. “Plus, he doesn’t feel comfortable taking a lot from me. He’s afraid of doing real damage. What he does take isn’t enough to be long lasting.”
“He seems to really care about you. How long have you two been together?”
Steve chuckles as he continues to focus on the task in front of him. “I like how you just found out vampires are real but your first question to me is about our relationship.”
“Hm. Like vampires, a non-toxic relationship always seemed like a fairy tale.”
His eyes met yours before sliding over your food and you flash him a polite smirk as you thank him.
“Eddie and I have been together for a little over three years. We technically grew up together but didn’t get to know each other till his third senior year of high school. He failed a lot.”, he laughs under his breath.
“Three years…2002?” Steve gives you a quizzical look as he nods. “He has a tattoo with lyrics, initials, and that year. Are you S.H.?”
Raising his tank top, he shows you his own tattoo on his left rib.
“I’d give up forever to touch you. E.M. 2002.”
“The first time I made a move, this song was randomly playing on the radio. Eddie kept talking about how corny it was. I told him I thought it was romantic and the fucker laughed at me so of course I had to kiss him.” You giggled at his story as he took your empty plate and placed it in the sink. “After I thought I lost him, I got this tattoo.”
His face fell at the memory and your heart broke for him. Trying not to dwell, he quickly cleared his throat and tried to shift focus.
“Enough about me. Tell me more about you.”
“I mean you already know the bulk of me.”
“I know about Mina. I feel like I don’t know much about Y/N.”
“There isn’t much to tell. I’ve lived here my whole life. It’s pretty much been me and my best friend… I don’t have a lot of friends or family. I have a brother but…that’s a long story.”
“What about your parents?”
“Gone. My father died when I was young and my mother is in jail.” Steve’s head tilts at your confession, not in judgement but in understanding. “Are your parents still around?”
“Uh no. They were kind of out of my life long before we moved here. We grew up in a small town before we moved here and when rumors started to spread that I was ‘fucking the freak’ they cut me off and pushed me out.”
“Oh my god. I’m so sorry, Steve. What about Eddie’s parents?”
The watch on his wrist beeps as he glances towards the window.
“He’ll be up soon so you can ask him that yourself.”
***
“What are you doing?”, Eddie asked as he came back into his room.
You wanted to give them some time alone and allow the long-haired boy to eat without you gawking at him so you hid out in their bedroom and did some work on their computer.
“Hey. I hope it’s ok, I wanted to do some quick checks on your site since I wasn’t able to moderate last night.” Pulling up an extra chair, he sat beside you as his eyes scanned the screen in front of you. “So like cursing and some of these lewd sentences Steve doesn’t care about but things like this where people threaten to hurt others or… these homophobic comments.” Your eyes glance his way as a low growl rumbles from his chest. “I’m sorry.”
Eddie blinks as if coming back into the moment.
“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you—”
“No, I meant…sorry you have deal with ignorance like this.”
“I don’t care if it’s directed at me. I’ve dealt with it my whole life but… he deserves better.”
“Steve told me about his parents not approving of you two; that the town you came from called you a—”
“Freak. Yeah. I was always a bit different than people there; the nerd who played D&D whose father was arrested.” Your palm comfortingly rubs his shoulder and he sighs in pleasure at the action. “He told me your mother was arrested. May I ask what for?”
“Parental neglect.”
His eyes met yours as you both read each other. Two people in this world who understood what it was like to grow up a certain way; to be a part of a club no child should ever be a part of.
Managing a smile, you turn your attention back to the monitor to continue what you were doing before. Cold fingers run through your hair, gently petting your head as your eyes flutter closed.
“You can ask me questions now if you want to, sweetheart.”
Swiveling around in your chair to face him, you hang your head and he can’t help but look at you with confusion.
“I don’t want to hurt you or make you uncomfortable.”
“Hey.” He lifts up chin and gives you what he hopes is a comforting smile. “I’m telling you it’s alright.”
At that moment, Steve walks in, handing him a black mug that blocks out its contents, and takes a seat on the bed across from where you two were sitting.
“What does the tattoo on your chest mean? The 2003?”
On impulse his hand hovers over it through his shirt as he tenderly grins at you.
“That’s when I died. When my…human heart stopped beating. Steve says I’m too dramatic.”, he chuckles trying to lighten the mood.
“He is.”
“You two got together a year before he died? Steve…”
“We’ll save that particular story for another time, honey.”
“Are there other vampires?”
“Um, I’m not going to lie we aren’t sure. We’ve tried doing research but can’t seem to find much of anything. Same with our friends.”
“You have friends?” They both laugh at your question making you giggle to. “Sorry. I just meant that you both seem like you spend a lot of time alone.”
“That’s fair. One of our closest friends set up the stream for us and does some AV Club tech mumbo jumbo to reroute the feed so no one can find us.”
“Why did you guys decide to stream what you do?”
“Money.”, they answer at the same time.
“When we left our hometown, we left with nothing. We still need a roof, I need to eat food, and he needs to be safe.”, Steve explained.
“Ok, so, you need a roof but no coffin. I imagine because it’s now nighttime, sunlight is a no go?”
“That is correct. Um, silver seems to hurt a fucking lot and crosses. I heal pretty quickly and I’ve been able to heal him. It’s just those little bites though. Thankfully, we’ve never had to try bigger wounds.”
“Can you transform like Dracula?”
“Uh…I’m not sure you want to see that but yes. It’s not like one of those cute little black bats or anything. I shift into the bats that bit me.”
“That’s how you were turned?” Eddie nods. “Is that…is that what your scars are?”
“Another time, Y/N.”
“Steve…I told her it was ok to ask and will there ever be a good time to tell that story?”
“Jesus fucking Christ. Again, why the fuck do I even bother? You never listen.”
Eddie rolls his eyes and watches him stomp out of the room.
“And I’M the drama queen.”, he jokes.
“No, I understand. He lost the man he loved for a time. I can’t imagine what that does to someone.”
“Have you ever been in love, princess?”
“The way you guys are no. I thought I was once but…”
“It wasn’t with that douchebag right?”
“No.”, you nervously chuckle. “No. I think with John I thought it was better to go through what he put me through than be alone. I hate being alone.”
“Yeah…I know the feeling.”
“Eddie, did you kill him? John.”
The boy’s jaw clenched as looked away from you. “Yes.”
“What—What did you do with him?”
“It’s better if you don’t know, Y/N.”
“Is that normal for you? Killing people.”
Something in the atmosphere changed as the vampire beside you began breathing heavier.
“Is that what you think I am? Some fucking monster that just hunts people and murders them for their blood?!”
“Eddie.”, Steve tried to comfort him as he powerwalked back into the room when he heard his partners voice raise. “Baby, everything’s ok.”
“I’m NOT a monster. If anything he was for hurting you!”
“Eddie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for my question to come out that way. I just…I’m learning. I know you were protecting me. I don’t blame you.”
The man pushes Steve back and vanishes out of the room as he runs out the front door. Sighing, he puts his hands on his hips as he hangs his head.
“I told him I didn’t want to hurt him. He insisted I ask questions.”
“I know, honey. Eddie’s always been the kind of person that doesn’t know how strong he actually is. Because of that, he overestimates how much he can handle. I on the other hand know what I can and can’t. I’ve already had the worst day of my life so I imagine nothing can be heavier than that.” His eyes glance your way before continuing.
“He’s tried to explain to me before the feelings he gets but it’s hard without feeling them myself. Depending on the emotion, he says it can physically hurt. I imagine whatever he sensed the other night… it was bad for him to kill your boyfriend.”
“When he brought me here, you said you knew he killed him because you knew him.”
“Eddie’s like a knight in shining armor. If he senses someone he cares deeply for is in danger he’ll…he’ll do what needs to be done.”
“Did he do that for you?”
“Come on, Y/N. Let me drive you home.”
########
You couldn’t sleep at all that night, tossing and turning till you finally just gave up. Taking a seat at your own computer, you decided to do some research of your own.
“E.M. +mysterious death+ S.H.”
A few things came up at first but nothing really stood out until you landed on small publication from a tiny news station in Indiana.
“City mogul’s son Steve Harrington missing; 2 of towns prominent citizens murdered!”
“S.H.”, you mumbled to yourself as you continued to read.
“Police found the bodies of two young men brutally murdered outside of the Forest Hills Trailer Park this past Wednesday, June 15, 2003. The boys had recently graduated from Hawkins High School and it is unknown at this time what they were doing in the area as that was not their place of residence.
Wayne Munson, fugitive Eddie Munson’s uncle, told our reporters that it wasn’t uncommon for people to come and harass him but there is no proof that is why they were there. Further analysis of the crime scene found the young Harrington’s DNA mixed with the others but his location at this time is undetermined.”
“E.M.”, you sigh, clicking the hyper link on his name.
There he was. A picture of a younger Eddie with a group of boys wearing a shirt that read “Hellfire” in front of what looked to be a high school cafeteria wall. He looked a bit different than he did now. As he bit his bottom lip flashing the rock & roll symbol with his hands, he seemed happy. Nothing in his demeanor that you saw matched the headline that followed.
“Eddie Munson Wanted for Murder of Young Girl.”
“Edward Munson is the prime suspect in the murder of young Hawkins High Cheerleading Senior Chrissy Cunningham who was violently butchered in the younger Munson’s residence before he fled the scene. Munson is wanted and possibly armed so proceed with caution! Call Chief Powell if you notice anything suspicious.”
There were more articles underneath discussing the case as new murders piled up and Eddie was blamed for every one of them.
“I’m not a monster.” Eddie had insisted and you believed him but obviously something happened.
Knocking on your front door gave you pause and you hastily turned off your monitor before running to answer it.
“Arthur. How can I help you?”
“Where is my brother?”, he snarled.
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen John in two days.”
“Bullshit! He said he was coming over here to talk to you but he never came back home.” Shoving his shoulder into the door, he pushed past you to look around your house.
“Arthur, get the fuck out! I told you he’s not here! I don’t know where he is!”
“Oh you don’t? How did you get that black eye, Y/N?”
“A souvenir he gave me before he fucking left.”
“Problem?” You jumped 3ft in the air when another man entered your house but this one you didn’t mind. Steve squared his shoulders as he placed himself in front of you. “I think she’s made it perfectly clear that he’s not here.”
“And who the fuck are you?”
“That’s none of your fucking business. Now…leave.”
Arthur strides forward till he’s face to face with the man in front of you as they stare each other down.
“It’s my business if you did something to him. If that whore is fucking you and John found out he would have made sure that neither of you were heard from again.”
“Get. Out.” Steve’s voice startled you. In all the time you had known him, you had never heard him be so authoritative. “This is my final warning.”
They stared at each other for another few seconds before Arthur bumped his shoulder with his own and stomped out the door. The man’s demeanor in front of you instantly deflated as he turned to check on you.
“Are you alright? Eddie sensed something and—”
Your lips cut him off as they crashed to his own. It took a moment for his brain to catch up with what was happening but when it did, he fully embraced it as his palms came up to cup your face and hold you close. As you pulled away, his thumbs caress your cheek tenderly as he smiles.
It all happens so fast.
There’s a loud bang and a sudden sting that pierces your side. Your hands shoot out to grab his biceps as the sound of growling and screaming fills the room.
“Steve?”
Your knees buckle as he catches you and once again you hear the familiar sound of their heated words.
“We have to get her back to our house! Come on!”
“No! She needs to go to a hospital!”
“If she goes to hospital, Steve, she WILL die! This isn’t a debate.” You wince when your roughly lifted into arms and the wind blows through your hair as you’re placed down on something hard. “Ok, princess. We’ll be right back.”
As soon as you start to cry, you feel a palm moving your hair out of your face.
“No! We have to get the bullet out first. Fucking hell! I still think she should be at a hospital. We don’t even know if you can heal a wound like this!”
“You can yell at me fucking later! Do whatever you have to do!”
“Eddie?” The vampire kneels beside you as he tries to dry the tears that are falling down your face. “I-I don’t think… you’re a monster.”
“Baby, don’t worry about that right now, okay?”
“I’m sorry. I like you both a lot…fuck…I think I could have been…a-a good Mina to your stream.”, you laugh weakly.
“STEVEN!”
“I’m coming! Ok, shit. Roll her on to her side and hold her still. I need her still, Eddie. Y/N, bite down on this ok, honey. I’m not going to lie; this is really going to fucking hurt.”
You take the wooden spoon he hands you and place it between your teeth as the long-haired boy holds you firmly in his grasp. You had never felt anything this bad before. As Steve dug into your wound, you bit down so hard on the material in your mouth you thought it would break.
“I know. I know, baby. You’re almost through this!”, he soothed through gritted teeth as he focused on the task in front of him.
You tried so hard to stay still but every synapse in your brain was telling you to run from the thing causing you this much pain. Eddie’s grip tightened as he held you in place while he squeezed his eyes shut. The truth was he could feel your hurt and Steve’s panic which was tearing him apart. That mixed with the delicious smell of your blood on their table was making things even harder for him.
“Got it! Go, Ed.”
He released you from his hold, quickly yanked off his shirt, and reached for the butcher knife to cut a line along his chest. Steve placed you gently on his lap as the vampire positioned your head towards the wound.
“Come on, sweetheart. I need you to drink.”
A little bit of his blood dripped onto your lower lip and your eyes widened at the taste. It was the most delicious thing you had ever had in your life. Your mouth opened wider as your limp arm tangled around his neck, bringing him closer to you as you did what he commanded.
“Fuck…is…is it working, Steve?”, Eddie moaned.
The man nodded as his eyes remained studiously on your back as he watched it gradually begin to heal. The metalhead’s fingers threaded through your hair as he held you to him.
“Baby, you-you may have to pull her…away when its time because…fuck this feels so fucking good.”
“Ok…Ok, Y/N. You’re good. Let’s not push it.” As Steve reached for you, the metalhead growled like a dog with you try to take away its toy. “Eddie…I have to take her. We don’t know what too much of your blood can do.”
To his surprise, it was his partner that pull your hair, tugging you back so his lips could mingle with your now stained ones. Your own palms cupped his cheek as his tongue invaded your mouth making you moan at the feeling. You didn’t think anything of it when his kisses travelled to your neck.
“Eddie. No.”, Steve warned but his boyfriend didn’t hear. He was so wrapped in your taste and smell as he continued to move.
Abruptly, he hissed and dropped you to the floor as he ran out of the house.
“Wh-What happened?”
“Come on, honey. Let’s get you into the shower.”, Steve deflects as he put the little silver cross in his pocket and lifts you into his arms.
##########
With your knees under your chin, you sat in the warm water and allowed Steve to clean you. He originally planned on leaving you alone but you begged him to sit with you. Rolling up his sleeves, he placed himself on the floor facing you as he washed the blood from your skin.
“Are you alright, Y/N?” As you nod your head, his fingers gently reach under your chin, and turn you to look at him. “Can you verbally answer me?”
“I’m ok. I’m… No, you won’t believe me.”
“Baby, I’m in love with a vampire. You’d be surprised what I believe.”, he jokes; softly grinning when you laugh.
“I’m…more in shock that…Arthur tried to kill me. I… I knew John was….you know…John but. I just never thought either of them would hurt me like that. I-If it wasn’t for you two…I wouldn’t be here.”
“Shhh, hey, everything’s alright. You’re safe now. Nothing like that is ever going to happen to you again. I’m sorry I couldn’t…protect you…but thankfully Eddie got there in time to keep things from getting worse.”
“Steve, what are you taking about? You did protect me. I was so scared but I felt safer when you showed up. You also just kept me from dying so I’d say you did more than protect.” Your eyes scanned him over as you politely smiled before getting to his feet and helping you out of the tub. “I feel like I should tell you something.”
“Some other time, pretty girl.”
After pulling one of their shirts over your head, he goes on the hunt for shorts so you would feel less exposed.
“Steve Harrington.” The man freezes in place as he listens to you speak. “Eddie Munson. Two boys from Indiana who went missing. One around March 2003 and the other a few months later.”
“Steve?” Eddie was suddenly in their bedroom doorway with a concerned look on his face. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? I felt you in pain.”
“Wanted for murder of three kids including a high school cheerleader.” The vampire swiveled his head in your direction as his eyes narrowed. “I-I found some articles online. There were also two boys murdered outside of…Wayne Munson’s trailer the night Steve disappeared.”
“I know you didn’t kill those kids—”
“The first 3, no. The two a few months later—”
“Shut up, Eddie.”, Steve huffs. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Then leave and I’ll tell her.”
“No.”, the man responds curtly as he kicks back into gear and finds a pair of boxers, tossing them in your direction. “I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone with her right now.”
“Excuse me?”, the vampire snarled as his posture straightened. “I just helped save her life.”
“You also were about to drain her and I’m not going to let you do that! She deserves better!”
“You keep saying that like living with me is a chore, Steven. Like you’re in prison or hell.”
“We’re both in fucking hell, Edward. That’s what this is.”, he gestures around him.
“You can leave any time you want to, babe.”
“Don’t you do that! After everything I do for you and everything we’ve been through, don’t condescend to me!”
“What do you want from me?! Do you want me to go back where I came from? Act like I didn’t fucking crawl to get back to you.”
Steve’s fist raised and you gasped as he smacked the vampire in the face.
“You don’t get to do that. I was there to, Eddie.”, he sighs as he comes to sit on the edge of the bed. “I’m tired. All the running, hiding, and fighting…worrying. If you bite her, all of that becomes her burden to. And god forbid we ever need to run again, I don’t want her to experience what I did. To know that empty feeling I experienced when I thought you were gone.”
Dropping the shorts he handed you to the floor, you went to sit beside him and tenderly ran your fingers through his hair.
“Even before we began talking, I watched you take care of him. I’ve never seen a love like that before. My parents hated each other and all my exes were trash. Steve… you deserve to feel good to. You deserve to have a good life. Let me…help you.”
With your hand on his cheek, you turned him to face you, bringing his lips back to yours.
“It’s ok, baby. You can use me. Let go.”, you whispered when you felt him holding back.
Steve glanced towards Eddie who smiled in return before grabbing the desk chair and placing himself in front of you both.
“Go ahead, sweetheart. Daddy can take care of himself tonight. Take control. Show Y/N what King Steve Harrington could do.”
Something flashed in the boy’s gaze when it shifted back to you; something more dominate you had never seen from him before in their previous streams. Pushing you back towards the pillows, his kisses came at a much more hectic and stronger pace.
Your fingers tugged at his shirt and he quickly pulled it off, groaning into your lips as your palm ran down his chest. His own hand caressed your thighs, slowly tracing your skin till his digits found their way between your folds.
“Please. Touch me, Steve. Can you feel how wet I am for you?”
Heavily sighing, his eyes locked with yours as his middle finger slid into your entrance.
“Fuck me. Honey, your so fucking tight.” As he slowly moved his finger, his thumb began circling your clit causing your eyes to roll as you moaned. “She’s just fucking clinging to me, Daddy. Shit.”
Eddie stifled a groan of his own as he palmed the bulge in his jeans.
“Yeah? Why don’t you put another finger in there? Give her taste of what she’s in for.”
“Can I taste you?”, you plead.
Watching with eager eyes, you wait as he leans back to push off his pants and hastily gets to his knees, pumping his cock in his hand as he brings it to your lips.
“Jesus, Steve. You’re so fucking big.” Your tongue darts out to lick the precum from his tip and the whimper he makes has you clenching, desperately needing him to put his fingers back into your needy hole.
“Say it again.”
“Your cock is so big. It’s gonna stretch me open.”
“Fuck—yeah I am, baby. Open your mouth.” You do as he instructs, opening your mouth wide as you stick out your tongue. “Good girl, Y/N.”
Thrusting his hips, his length moves between the opening making him mewl as he lifts up your shirt and kneads your breast with his hand. Hearing someone spit, he glances towards Eddie right as he was bending over his dick, allowing a glob of drool to land on the tip before stroking it along himself.
Steve couldn’t take it anymore as he turned your head towards him and fully pushed his cock down your throat. While one hand petted your hair, the other returned to your cunt as he slid two of his fingers inside of you and pumped them at a fast pace. You were barely able to catch any form of breath as you whimpered and your throat constricted around him.
“Goddamn it. Yes! Come on, baby. Cum. Cum for me.”
As his fingers curled inside of you, you moaned loudly as he held your head still while the dam broke and you came.
Steve’s eyes were wild with lust as he pulled back and passionately kisses your lips as you gradually came down from your high.
“Come on, Y/N.”, he murmured. “Let’s give Daddy a good show.”
You allowed him to take control as he moved you around till you both were facing Eddie with you on your hands and knees. The wheels of the desk chair rumbled along the floor as the vampire scooted till he was level with your face. His cold fingers grazed you skin as he helped you take of your shirt before caressing your cheek.
“You both look so beautiful like this. God, I wish you two could smell and feel how I do. You’re right, princess. He needed this. All that fucking testosterone of being in control just radiating from him and the scent of your cunt just begging for him. Fuck me.”
While Eddie talked Steve positioned himself behind your body, mewling as he guided himself into you. The metalhead grinned as he watched your eyebrows scrunch together as he began stroking his cock again at the sight.
“I know, baby. You can take it. G-Good girl. Look at Daddy, sweetheart. Fuck, you’re so pretty. How does she feel, Steve?” The man had both eyes closed while his hands took hold of your waist as he did small thrusts inside you. “Steve Harrington, I asked you something.”
“Tight…warm…fuck…”, he grunted.
“What about you, baby girl?”
“Full. He-He’s so deep. Agh!”, you whine as Steve roughly smacks his hips against yours. “Can I kiss you, please?”
Nodding his head, his fingers tangle in your hair as he leans forward allowing you to taste his lips. You groan as the man behind picks up his rhythm at the sight, thrusting into you with purpose as he hits your sensitive spot over and over.
“Don’t take your eyes of me.”, Eddie commands as he leans back and continues stroking his dick in front you.
Steve leaned his chest onto you to your back, reaching under your body to play with your nipples and massage your tits in his large palms.
“You feel so good, Y/N. So fucking wet and tight. Fuck. You take me so well, pretty girl. I knew—mmm—I knew from the first moment we talked to you…”
“W-What, baby? What did you know? Tell me, please.”
“You’re different.”, he grunted in your ear. “You don’t deserve the bullshit you’ve been through.”
Your arm reached around his neck and tilted his head so you could kiss his lips.
“I don’t ever have to worry about that again right, Steve? I’m safe with you two.”
“Fuck.”, the man growled as he pushed up onto his knees, tugging back on your hair to bring you with him. “Yeah, honey. You’re safe.”
“Jesus, it’s been—mmph—its been awhile since I’ve seen dominate Steve.”
You don’t see it but the man smirks at his vampire boyfriend as he thrusts faster into you, clinging to your body as his fingers come down to rub your clit.
“Cum, baby. Please. I need to feel you squeeze my dick the way you squeezed my fingers. Make sure y-you keep your eyes on Daddy when you do, pretty girl.”
You did as you were told, staring into Eddie’s beautiful brown eyes as you moaned Steve’s name till you were blinded by white and nearly collapsed in his arms.
“Yes! Good girl. Such a good, beautiful girl. Where can I cum, honey?”
“In-Inside. Please.”, you mumbled.
Steve glanced towards Eddie who nodded in approval and with a few more rough pumps you felt him coat your insides.
“Shit. Come here, big boy.”
After carefully pulling out of you, you watched with half lidded eyes as Steve dutifully jumped down in front of him and took his partners cock into his mouth. Eddie groaned as his movements began choppy and he came down the boy’s throat.
***
Eddie coughs before his eyes shoot open and he sits up from his spot on the cold concrete.
“Dustin? Henderson?!” Panic sets in as the silence around him become deafening. “S-Steve?”
Slowly, he wobbled to his feet taking in the upside down around him. All the bats were dead and there was none of the thunder or rumbles that had been there before. He groaned as his arms gripped his stomach. He was in an immense amount of pain. It wasn’t like a physical pain but something could almost feel in his soul.
“Eddie…”
“Steve?” The metalhead turned in every direction but didn’t see the man he loved anywhere.
“I miss you so much. I feel so lost without you, baby.”
“Steve!? I’m here! I’m right here!” Hobbling towards his trailer, he began to hear faint music.
“And all I can taste is this moment
And all I can breathe is your life
And sooner or later, it's over
I just don't wanna miss you tonight.”
Something in the atmosphere changed and Eddie felt it immediately.
Danger.
The man’s eyes went black, his mind filling with Steve as he ran almost violently through the wall of his home and jumped through the gate in the roof onto the floor of the dark trailer below.
Your eyes shot open as you gasped awake.
“Well, that’s new.”, Eddie said sarcastically as he scanned you over.
“Hey, honey. You’re okay. Here drink this.”, Steve cooed as he hurried back into the bedroom with a bottle of water. “You’re safe, remember. It was just a nightmare.”
“No…it wasn’t.” Your eyes met with the vampires as he sighed and turned towards Steve. “She just experienced one of my memories.”
“How do you know that?”, he asked.
“I felt it. It was the same way I felt…when I woke up and…”
The other man held up his hand to silence him. “Maybe she drank enough of your blood for that to happen? I mean I’m not surprised if drinking your blood can heal, who knows what else it can do.”
“Or your dick is just that amazing.”
Steve rolled his eyes as he smirked in his boyfriend’s direction. It took them a moment to realize you had started crying as you wrapped your arms around Eddie’s neck.
“I’m so sorry you went through that. Waking up alone like that in that scary place and then feeling what you felt.” After you let him go, he kissed your forehead and Steve climbed in beside you. “There’s a lot I don’t know, huh.”
They both nodded and you did that same before laying down flat in their bed once more.
“While you were asleep I cleaned you but I wasn’t sure if you needed anything else. Do you need anything?”
“No, Steve. Thank you.”
Turning off the light beside the bed, he rolled back over to be met with your awaiting arms as you circled them around his waist and rested your head on his chest. When you absently raised your arm in the air, they both seemed confused until you found Eddie’s wrist and tugged his own limbs around your hip.
“Thank you both for what you did today.”
“Of course, sweetheart.”
As your eyes drift shut again, you feel the vampire move as he reaches over to caress Steve’s cheek and in return the man leans into it as he kisses his palm.
“I’m sorry for what I said about how you could leave if you wanted to. Sometimes I forget that pain you went through without me since I was knocked out for most of it. Feeling her dream…my memory…when I woke up, Steve, it was the first thing I felt…your grief. I can understand you not wanting her to feel that.”
“Taking care of you isn’t chore for me. I like looking out for you but I know a lot of that is panic. I work so hard to keep things the same because if they are then I know the outcome. Honestly, she scares me. Like you I like Y/N a lot but it’s been a while since we’ve been vulnerable like this, Eddie. Tonight, we got lucky but what if other bad things happen?”
“Then like tonight, I’ll handle it. You’re not alone anymore, sweetheart. We can do anything together right?” Steve’s exhales before he nods. “One day at a time, baby. Let’s just focus on the positive…like me getting to watch my two beautiful babes go at it.”
Eddie sticks out his tongue making the man chuckle.
“The three of us will have to talk about that part more but IS it ok if I’m her Daddy to?”
“Yeah, yeah of course, honey. As long as you and she are comfortable with it. Baby girl doesn’t know what she’s in for when it comes to you.”
“Well, she’ll find out soon enough.”
##############
Part 1 Here
#steddie x reader#steddie fluff#steddie smut#steddie fanfiction#steddie#eddie munson#steve harrington#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson smut#eddie fanfic#eddie stranger things#steve fanfic#steve smut#steve stranger things#joe keery#joseph quinn#stranger things#fan fiction#steddie x you#steddie x y/n#steve fluff#dom!eddie munson#sub steve harrington#sub reader#vampire eddie munson#vampire eddie x reader#vampire eddie x steve#camboy steddie#stranger things au#Spotify
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to be human — han jisung. roommate au. friends to lovers. kind of comfort fic. supernatural au.
your shapeshifter friend forgets how to turn back into a human and has a crisis. inspired by this artwork. (~1k words)
“Jisung?”
It’s quiet in your apartment where Jisung would usually blast music. It’s strange to be greeted by silence instead, a little concerning even.
“Ji?” You try calling out again, stepping cautiously inside as you briefly draw your eyes to each room in search of your roommate.
“I’m in here.” Jisung’s voice has a tone of dejection to it as he replies to you from the bathroom. Grogginess indicative of exhaustion and resignation.
You know something’s wrong.
When he hears your footsteps padding towards where he is, his tone shifts to one of panic. “Please don’t come in.”
You already know why.
“Jisung, I’m not scared of you.” The door creeks open when you enter, and Jisung is still hidden in the bathtub behind drawn out shower curtains.
He doesn’t want you to see him like this.
You know he startles easily in this state, so you do your best to keep your footsteps light, actions gentle as you peel back the shower curtain and step into the tub with him. One leg after the other. It’s small, doesn’t really fit the two of you — you press your knees to your chest in trial of a solution so you can give him more space in the tub.
A minute goes by.
“How many eyes do I have?” He squeaks, not being able to take the silence, and it’s a sign that it’s okay for you to look at him. Locking eyes with his form, you briefly scan his features, not dwelling too hard on anything. You know he wouldn’t want that.
You count in your head. One. Two. Three… “Uh, seven?”
“Just pick one to focus on.” You listen to him, eyes focused on the one of his eyes. He looks so small like this, despite doubling in his usual size, and you know cogs are turning in his brain (if he even had one). It’s been a while since he’s been stuck outside of his human form.
“How are you feeling?”
“Okay.”
“Are you in pain?”
“A bit.” The pained way he speaks is so close to human emotion that it shatters you. “I’m sorry you have to see me this way.”
“You are still my friend, you know?” You try to speak with comfort. You know he needs it the most. You hope to cement in him that what he looked like didn’t matter to you — just that, at the end of the day, it was still him behind all the masks he puts on.
He scoffs. “Not looking like… this.”
“That doesn’t matter. It’s still you, isn’t it?”
A heartbeat passes. Yours. He simply sits in silence to process your words. You wonder what he’s thinking of.
“I guess.” You smile at his response. It visibly calms him down. “Oh, by the way, I got you something.”
You grab the backpack you had dropped just beside the tub. It’s his, had given it to you months ago, and there’s a picture of the two of you in the form of a keychain hanging by the zipper.
“I know you technically don’t need to eat anything but… I remember you said you really liked this when you were still human.”
It’s cheesecake wrapped in plastic, and if Jisung had a heart, he’s convinced it would be beating twice the normal rate.
You’re right, he doesn’t need to eat, but he will save it as something to remember this moment by.
“I hope it helps you remember being… you.” You place it on the space between the two of you in the tub. He’ll grab it later. There’s something else in his mind.
“Where did you get that?” Jisung questions, eyes fixated on something else entirely.
“Oh, just the bakery I pass on the way to uni.”
“No, the picture.”
“The picture?” You look down at where he’s looking. Your keychain.
“This? I always carry it on me.” You show it to him proudly. A memory passes in his head. He doesn’t remember much, but he does remember being happy the day that picture was taken.
“You do…?” You hum to confirm his inquiry. Silence washes over, and just as quick as it comes, it’s ripped away by sniffling coming from Jisung’s end.
He doesn’t cry, but it looks like he’s about to.
“Give me your hand.” You demand, though tone gentle in case he didn’t wanna be touched.
“What? No.” He’s still sniffling.
“I want to hold it.”
This time, he blinks. All seven of his eyes. Flashes of him attempting to hold your hand before, all in vain.
“Since when do you like holding hands?”
“Since now.” You mumble. Your hand is outstretched, just waiting for him to take it if he wanted.
Long sharp nails greet you, and you have to use both of your hands to hold his one properly. For a second, you feel a spark of life when your hands meet.
He feels it too.
“We’ll get through this together, okay?” Jisung lets you hold his hand. He’s looking at you now, less afraid of himself and how he looks. It’s quiet here with you, isn’t so loud. He could get used to this.
His fingers curl around your hand, completely swallowing it by the sheer size of his. Your whole hand fits in his. It feels nice. Warm in comparison to the cold he feels in this state.
“Okay.” Jisung’s tone is softer now.
It’s easier to remember what feeling human is like with you. He wonders if the unidentifiable feeling he gets when you’re with him is something he had felt back when he had a beating heart.
Wonders if the way he felt when he saw the picture you keep of the two of you mean anything to his humanness. Does it count for something if he wants to keep holding your hand every day after today?
Jisung doesn’t breathe, doesn’t bleed, doesn’t need to consume anything to survive — but he’s capable of loving, and that makes him human enough.
#k-labels#jisung x reader#han jisung x reader#stray kids x reader#stray kids fluff#jisung au#han jisung au#han jisung fluff#stray kids imagines#stray kids fic#stray kids x you#stray kids oneshot#han jisung#han x you#han x reader#han jisung fanfic#fluff#han fluff#skz x reader#skz imagines#skz fluff#skz han#skz jisung#stray kids scenarios
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Name: Fujitsumon
Debut: Digimon Pendulum 2.0 Deep Savers (kind of. It's a little complicated. But don't worry about that)
Fujitsumon is a darling little eyes-in-a-void barnacle! With their brown exteriors, they really do bring to mind Jawas, world-renowned eyes-in-a-void creature. This is a rare design choice for a barnacle, and a barnacle is a rare creature inspiration choice! Too rare! They are such incredible and fascinating animals, and should absolutely be represented as such, and not just background decorations!
Fujitsumon is essentially a Digimon by technicality, an accessory of a creature, and I'm fine with that. They're acknowledged as creatures, and that's enough for me! They're almost always seen attached to the surface of another creature, and that sure is barnacle of them!
This is their host, Octomon! Or Octmon, if you don't like the dub name, but I think Octomon sounds better. Octomon wears a clay pot on its head, and Fujitsumon live on top of that! This is a smart setup. If I lived underwater I would love to wear a hat that some barnacle friends of mine could live on! Fujitsumon and Octomon have a mutualistic relationship going on, where the barnacles will sense danger, and warn the octopus of it, getting the whole group out of danger!
The reason I wasn't so sure about Fujitsumon's debut is that in Deep Savers, Octomon's sprite looks like this, not nearly detailed enough to even depict some barnacles! However, it does seem like the official art was made around this time, so I might as well consider this Fujitsumon's debut too.
There isn't much to Fujitsumon, but I love it! It's cute, it's a barnacle, and it's almost a "secret" creature, and that makes it, dare I say, even more fun than if it was a standalone obtainable Digimon! A charming little oddity in the digital world.
That's what I thought until I found out this little barnacle has a whole dedicated ANIME EPISODE! YEEHAW! This is the best barnacle-related cartoon episode I've ever seen! Better than SpongeBob SquarePants episode 164a Barnacle Face! Why, even better than Benny the Barnacle (2022)! Can you believe it? Better than Benny the Barnacle? I can.
In this episode of Digimon Ghost Game, the human protagonist is tormented by premonitions of disasters occurring to everyone around him, revealed to be caused by a Fujitsumon settled on his head. A land mammal is no place for a barnacle! Wouldn't it be crazy if you could go to the beach and leave with a barnacle settled on your fingernail? What would you even do? I would probably feel obligated to dip my finger into the ocean regularly to let it filter-feed. If only we had air plankton!
This Fujitsumon, as well as others that are affecting other humans, come from one particular Octomon, who got so angry at his barnacles that they Left. These are no real-life, cemented-in-place-for-the-rest-of-their-lives barnacles! They can just get up and leave if they're bothered. I bet real barnacles wish they could do that! It would be so embarrassing to end up settled right next to a turtle's... hehe... I shan't say...!
Octomon's petty outburst was over his magic brain barnacles not using their clairvoyance to help him win at a mobile game. Now, because of his Gamer Moment, there are Fujitsumon stuck directly to peoples' heads, which can cause these heads to explode. Maybe he should have just played a good mobile game, like Pico Pets Puzzle! *high fives someone offscreen*
Don't worry! Everything's ok in the end, like it always is with invertebrate friends! Octomon apologizes, the lead Fujitsumon gathers the whole crusty crew, and everything is fine except for the physical damage that has already been done, but don't worry! The virtual invertebrates are all friends again! Squishy or chitinous, none of us have spines, and that's what matters!
If you know of any obscure barnacles in media, please let me know in the notes! And until the next high tide, remember to close your armored plates to prevent dessication!
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I love the idea of Tsu’tey adopting Spider so here are some headcanons I have of that old grumpy guy raising his little son.
Tsu’tey’s injuries from the Great War caused him a lot of mobility issues. He often wakes up in pain from stiff joints and muscle spasms. To help, Spider will crawl over him and lay on whatever limb is hurting him to most in the morning because his body puts off a lot of heat and relaxes his muscles. He’s like a little heat pack.
Spider originally did need to wear his mask constantly, but over time, through constant communion with Eywa, she changes his lungs to be able to breathe the air. He doesn’t tell anyone though, because it happens years into him realizing nothing he can do will make most see past his humanness. Tsu’tey, however, finds out after seeing Spider lift his mask to shove a large piece of fruit in his mouth that he specifically told Spider not to eat.
Spider’s English is abysmal. He barely has the patience to sit through the normal lessons he gets from Mo’at and some of the other elders who like him, let alone enough to go to Hell’s Gate to learn about Earth. Mo’at scolds Tsu’tey for slacking in teaching Spider his native language, but he isn’t too worried about it.
Tsu’tey’s biggest mistake as a parent (in his mind) is letting Spider believe his hiss was intimidating. It was the best thing in the world for Tsu’tey when Spider was a baby. But then came a stint of time where Spider would hiss openly at anyone when annoyed which just made his reputation among villagers worst. The kids who made fun of him got bitten, mask be damned, which does not help his case.
Despite his short stature, Spider can actually fight and hold his own against fully grown Na’vi. Tsu’tey teaches him how to strike fast and hard, going for weak points in Na’vi anatomy and focusing on their legs and feet, places Spider can reach easily and do a fair amount of damage. This does mean Spider gets into a larger number of fights with other Na’vi adolescents compared to canon.
Spider is still best friends with Lo'ak and Kiri in this AU, much to Tsu'tey's dismay. He likes them well enough, Lo'ak is kind of loud and Kiri has an unnerving tendency to stare directly into his soul when talking, but overall they're good kids. He does wish they would stop eating him out of house and home though.
In canon, Tsu’tey has a brother named Arvok, who lives with them. Tsu’tey also takes in Tarsem, whose entire family died in the fall of Home Tree. He and Arvok are best friends, so it makes sense for him to live with them. The boys are like Spider’s brothers, but they pull out the "We're your uncles" card whenever he’s not listening to them or when they want to get out of doing chores.
Regardless of who you ship Spider with, Tsu’tey would find a fault in them. Neteyam? Too obedient to his parents, he needs to rebel more. Lo’ak? Too rebellious, he will get Spider killed doing one of his hair-brain stunts. Kiri? Eywa help him; she’s too much of everything. Any of the Metkayina kids? It’s laughable you’d even think for a second he’d let Spider marry into another clan.
Spider has an ikran in this AU cause I say he does. He finds a baby ikran abandoned during one of the trials he attends with his father. She’s the runt, too small and weak to fly with her family away from their nest back to their roost. Spider takes pity on her and nurses her back to health, hiding her away so no one knows because it’s technically illegal to raise an ikran. She imprints on Spider and the rest is history once Tsu’tey finds out she exists. He’s adamant they cannot keep her but one look from their combined puppy eyes breaks his will.
Tsu’tey and Spider’s ikran have the same relationship as those dads who say they hate the dog and then the dog becomes their best friend. When Spider gets kidnapped, Tsu’tey spends several nights awake with only the ikran for company, praying and begging Eywa to bring his son back to him.
Spider overall was a pretty healthy child, but there was one time when he got very sick and slipped into a coma. The scientists genuinely thought he wouldn’t make it for a while. This is the first time Tsu’tey has ever contemplated suicide, something that is forbidden under Eywa’s laws. He cannot imagine a life without Spider. The second time is after he’s taken by the RDA, but seeing Spider’s friends rally to try and get him bad makes him push the thoughts away.
After the battle at Three Brothers Rock, Neteyam lives but is mortally injured. The combined knowledge of Norm, Max, Ronal, and Mo’at is the only thing that keeps the boy from being paralyzed for life, but he’s essentially got the same disabilities as Tsu’tey now. And he’s a shell of himself. Tsu’tey doesn’t really have time to focus on him, though, because Spider is in just as bad shape as Neteyam, but mentally. After weeks of seeing both boys break down physically and mentally, Tsu’tey comes up with an idea. He gives both boys the task of planting and raising a plant together. Almost everyone thinks he’s crazy for this, but after a few weeks of watching their efforts to make this tiny plant bloom, they see that their moods have improved. Neteyam does his physical activity more to get outside and care for the plant, and Spider uses the plant as an outlet to air thoughts he knows would devastate his family.
When asked how he knew making them care for a plant would help, Tsu’tey simply replies by saying that the only thing that saved him after his injuries was Spider. Carrying for another helpless creature forced you, in turn, to care for yourself. His son saved his life.
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Canon worldbuilding lore on the MCU Kree to help you with your fanfic
They rule over multiple planets. Hala is the capital.
Hala's star is called Pama
In the comics there are around five known planets in Hala's system - it's unclear if Hala is 4th or 5th planet because it's been confused with another planet, Turunal.
Hala is located in the Larger Magellanic Cloud
Hala had oceans and forests (rip to those tho lol)
Leader of the Empire is called the "Supremor"
The Supreme Intelligence was basically god
The collective is one idea of the afterlife — if your brain is worthy it joins the Supreme Intelligences database when you die.
The spiritual afterlife is called the Etherplex or something idk
Their technology is somewhat water based (need more info on this)
Architecture is heavy on metal and stone and is very geometric. Buildings are detailed but there generally isn't too much furniture.
Cyan and purplish lights for a big chunk of Hala, golden lights for the Supreme Intelligence.
No hanging paintings... If you want art you have to hire someone to paint your wall lol
Starforce generally have one room apartments, I couldn't see a kitchen in them.
Stuff like wardrobes, book shelves, cupboards and drawers are more likely to be inserted into the wall to save space.
Like Carol literally lived in a single room with a bed, nightstand and a hexagonal cup. The ideal female living space.
They have hexagonal cups (I just thought that was cute)
The military is a big deal! Other respectable careers involve teaching, medicine, typically intelligent jobs that give something to society.
Kids are trained from a young age in the military. They're called "recruits". There's a deleted scene of Yon-Rogg teaching some.
The military hierarchy is likely Supremor > Accuser > Starforce > Kree Army > Non Kree Army > War slaves.
The Accusers aren't just extra bad military. They uphold the law, make arrests, hold trials, decide punishments, etc. I'd imagine that this is typically done for more important criminals or prisoners of war. That's why Dar-Benn holds an Accuser hammer as Supremor — she's upholding the law.
Kree Law is vaguely structured around the Tablets of Koth — they aren't definitive but they are the main basis.
Questioning your leaders is technically illegal
The worst crime of all is being "un-Kree".
Kree supremacy is big. In the comics it's illegal for Kree to have children with other species. They will tolerate other races if they’re feeling nice about it, but ultimately the Kree come first. This is important in the context of Carol's relationship with Yon-Rogg.
There's racism of blue Kree > non blue Kree in the comics but it doesn't appear to be present in the MCU. Keep it in mind though.
The Kree originally evolved to have blue skin because of low oxygen levels on Hala. Non blue kree came later as a result of mixing with other species. Since making babies with another species has been illegality for probably millenia, non blue Kree are now just another skin tone of the species.
Sexism isn't a thing. Yon-Rogg isn't sexist to Carol he's being racist too her lol
There are groups of noble families with some quite strict rules about battle. If a noble is cornered in battle with no way out they have to drink the special suicide juice or else they are shamed.
The suicide juice is called Odium, which means hate in Latin. If you sip it you go crazy with rage, get super strength and start trying to fight everything until it makes your heart explode
In the comics the Kree have double that of human organs — ie two hearts, four lungs. Brain is probably an exception. They have stronger bones and heavier muscle mass.
Kree blood has healing properties strong enough to bring a species with simple DNA (like humans) back from the dead but it's super duper painful and like 7/8 of the people that have received it have been given some kind of amnesia afterwards
Carol was one of those humans lol rip queen
Apparently the amnesia thing isn't even hard to do? In Agents of Shield a Kree had a tiny little hammer and he'd slap people with it and they'd loose their memories (I doubt that Carol was slapped with a tiny hammer but you never know this might help you)
Propaganda art - there are some gorgeous statues and murals in the Captain Marvel concept art.
Fashion is generally dark. Black, grey and brown for most people. It's not too complicated. White appears to be for underclothes/sleeping wear.
Well it's not too complicated unless you are the Supremor. Remember, Dar-Benn is succeeding the position from their idea of god. She's dressed to the tens and stands out the most from literally everyone. Her stuff is more detailed and metallic and she's wearing a lot more jewellery.
Also notice how Dar-Benn changes outfits literally every ten minutes. I need Marvel to stop killing all the cunty villains because I deserved to study her entire wardrobe thank you very much
A few Kree women (including Carol) have the style of one side being braided and the other let down.
The Kree are encouraged to experiment with as many genders as possible
So technically Carol Danvers lesbian sex canon
Some people grow babies in big tanks. Why? To make them strong or something idk. Carol's comic half sister was born in a big tank bc they wanted her to be strong asf to serve as an Accuser
Swear words — I only know da'st. No idea what it means
They don't have a word for candy </3
Normal space currency is called credits. Kree currency is called kreedits. If that's not the funniest fucking thing ever I don't know what is.
Kree names are "your name-family name". Eg Yon-Roggs given name is Yon, but his surname is Rogg. His daughters name is Una-Rogg.
You generally don't separate the name. Yon-Roggs name isn't Yon, it's Yon-Rogg. Obviously there's exceptions, but that's the general naming rule. It wouldn't be outright wrong to call him Yon, it would just be uncommon and slightly weird.
The Kree have beef with every species ever. They had multiple wars with the Asgardians and the Xandarians.
I've probably missed something lol
Anyways: Arab.org daily click to help Palestine 🍉
#marvels-meme#not a meme#marvel#mcu#the marvels#marvel cinematic universe#captain marvel#carol danvers#worldbuilding#actually canon!#captain marvel (2019)#the marvels (2019)#kree marvel#mcu kree#dar-benn#yon-rogg#its 1 am yay...
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Brooo I love your writing so much!! It’s literally so great😭 can you write the brothers (or just Lucifer and Satan if that’s too much) with a teen!mc (platonic obv) that is VERY gen z. Like if they’re able to have their phone while in Devildom then they would constantly be talking about stupid internet drama while using strange terms. They know the stuff they say is weird but that just encourages them to be even more unhinged and chaotic. I just thought it’d be funny :) thanks if you decide to do this!!
"I hear you loud and clear! My apologies for this taking so long, I was only able to come up with something for Lucifer and Satan."
--------------------------------------
Lessons in cringe culture
Notes - Teen!MC, Headcanons, Shitpost, comedy just pure comedy
Characters - Feat. Lucifer and Satan
Summary - MC has a few ideas on how to make these ten million years old demons more modern. Are they good ideas? Who knows and who cares
Warnings - Not proof read
TW - None
Lucifer:
[ New word to vocabulary - Gyatt ]
- So MC teaches him gyatt. And not actually on purpose, but not on accident either. They had the thought of saying it out loud around him just to see if it would be a good enough substitute for "god" that they could say it without almost smiting the Avatar.
- They had the thought about a week ago and completely forgot about, but they couldn't just sit there silently when they got jumpscared by the newest update to celestialdrop Valley
"You can now drink mayonnaise."
- Either way he is scared of teenagers of MCs variety because he was sitting in pure silence, minding his whole business while MC did something on their phone, until suddenly they screamed from the top of their lungs
"GYATT DAMN?! LEVI YOU WON'T BEEEEELIVE THIS!"
- Not only did they startle him out of his old ten million years aged bones, and dared to swear in his presence, but then before running to show Levi whatever it was that sparked this outburst MC turned to him and asked
"Are you all good?"
"...Yes? Why would I not be?"
- They give him the most evil of smiles before leaving. The smile was so evil that it sent shivers down his spine, for a human it was a devilish little smile that he knew meant nothing but trouble.
- The things he'd give for a single one of his technically adopted family to be normal ( <-- He literally handpicked everyone in the house, and he's no better but he's also the oldest so )
- He asks MC about it later and gets a proper explanation, only thing is that now he can't ground them for the improper use of language because the use of "gyatt" was surprisingly clever and smart
- Damnit MC, stop getting the braincell!
- He genuinely starts using it in secret whenever he wants to say "goddamn", he dare not utter it around his brothers lest they start bullying him
- Jokes on him, he gets drunk and slips up in the group chat!
Satan:
[ New phrase to vocabulary - It's my turn with the braincell! ]
- Speaking of. One would think that because he reads so many things and has so much knowledge and is technically the youngest of his brothers that he would know at least a bit of funky phrases
- He does. He knows Devildom phrases specifically. But he's also stupidly smart, smart stupid if you will, so he takes things MC sometimes says a tad to literal
- So imagine his surprise when they say "Hey, it's my turn with the braincell. I need it for algebra, hand it over!!!" While studying with their friends
- If you imagined very, very surprised then you are correct
- Aka: he's worried about the amount of concussions MC must've had for them to lost so many brain cells that they need to borrow and take turns with them from others
- He would've also questioned where and how they’re getting the brain cells they’re borrowing if he weren't so concerned in the first place
- He genuinely asks them what kind of brain cells are they missing to see how he can help
- They tell him "My brother in christ, I'm simply jesting about" and now he thinks MC is a sickly Victorian child with a lack of brain cells who got cursed
- Congratulations MC, you've tricked the smartest person in the house, but at what cost?
- The cost of him texting the group chat that MC has lost brain cells and needs to borrow some, that's what. All because they're too busy laughing to properly explain, and now Levi and Belphi are clowning on everyone else because they ALL fell for it too
- The price of living with beings who are over ten million years old is a steep one
- He steals the phrase and instantly starts telling his brothers to borrow brain cells btw, he's adapting
- He's been stealing phrases from MC for a while now, but this one is his favorite
- ( They taught him "fuck this thing, fuck that thing, fuck you, fuck you, you're cool-" last week, they’re not allowed to be friends anymore )
AN - The idea of teaching Lucifer "gyatt" made my lungs hurt, but then the thought of Asmo learning "down bad", Beel learning "bussin", and Mammon learning "L + Ratio + you fell off + fatherless" also made me lose it. I just wasn't sure how to go about that. ( Also thanks for the compliment!!! I hold it ever so gently,,, )
#obey me shall we date#obey me headcanons#obey me lucifer#obey me satan#om lucifer#om satan#obey me shitpost#obey me teen mc#[ 📜 ] requests
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So consider this… It’s two weeks after the end of S4, Poor Steve is trying to unwind at home as best he can so he’s taken to jerking off regularly and letting himself be as loud as he wants ‘cause who the fuck still lives in Hawkins these days? And then the lights start flickering, the camera does a full 360 sideways and there is a very much alive very red-faced Eddie Munson in the upside-down version of Steve’s house, rapidly flickering the lights and shouting “I CAN HEAR YOU HARRINGTON, GODDAMN IT!”
ANON ! i'm in love with you and kissing you on the forehead for this one. 1) because it made me cackle out loud and i was in need of a good laugh, so thank you my angel 😇 and 2) because i'm now convinced that this has to be a scene in s5 or i'll simply pass away ! too good !!
!! PLEASE READ BELOW BEFORE CLICKING THE READ MORE !!
before we continue and get onto the prompt, this post is very much scandalous/nsft (minors close your eyes and scroll away).
ficlet contains: monsterfucking, breeding, masturbation, accidental voyeurism, kas!eddie/steve harrington, and general filth. if that’s not your thing, no problem, i’d just suggest skipping this one :)
now, i'm imagining eddie's in kind of a clusterfuck, here. he's trapped in the UD. and he's scared out of his mind, hungry, exhausted, drained of all hope, losing it, etc. steve's UD house was the closest place he could find to take shelter after waking up from the whole demobat attack (and let's face it, subconsciously or not, eddie takes comfort in the fact that the house obviously reminds him of steve).
and the first few times he hears steve jerking off, eddie thinks he's genuinely imaging it. because, like, there's just no way steve 'the hair' harrington--former king steve of hawkins high--is making noises that breathy, sinful, and sweet. there's just no way ! what with the high pitched whines, bratty little moans, and out of character babbling about wanting his pussy fucked hard--there's just NO FUCKING WAY.
however, it does do something to eddie's dick (which has grown considerably, btw, since he started transforming into...well...he's not entirely sure what he is anymore, but he's definitely something other than human...he knows that).
his cock aches and throbs obscenely as he tries to drown out steve's cries of pleasure from above.
but he can't help it. eddie really, really can't. he's got it bad. he feels absolutely sick with want. and he's simply overtaken by the glorious sounds of this beautiful boy. newly sensitive ears burning from listening to steve's wet, sloppy, cock fucking into his veiny hand or against the sheets (which eddie can tell he's doing because he can smell the waft of linen and hear the painful drag of skin on fabric).
and the thing is, the more it happens, the more possessive eddie's hind brain gets about steve harrington.
the more he finds himself taking out his own enormous, barbed dick and milking himself over steve's UD bed. closing his eyes as he does so, he imagines mounting the boy, shoving his face into the pillows, taking him from behind and stuffing him full with load after load of cum.
eddie wants steve to carry his babies--even though it's not technically biologically possible (to his knowledge, shhh). he wants to watch his belly bulge and stretch; on the verge of bursting from how huge eddie's cock is inside him. he wants to use steve as his own personal cock warmer, employ the barbs, and lock himself into place. he wants to brush up against steve's untouched prostate relentlessly, draw moan after moan out of him, make steve scream out those sweet sounds just for him. draining ever last ounce of his cum into this perfect boy as he makes him writhe and undulate from the magnitude of his pleasure. pleasure only eddie munson--this new version of himself, enhanced and engorged with desire--can give him.
then the day comes where eddie's convinced he's going to bite his own arm off if he doesn't get his hands on steve soon. steve, who, can't seem to stop jacking off. constantly moaning and whining and crying out eddie's name as he cums so sweetly. never brining another human into the room. always by himself, always touching his cock so carefully. treating it like something delicate, teasing himself, and taking his time.
and eddie's hind brain is growing irritable. he's frigid, desperate, and heart-broken over the fact that he can't protect and serve his human directly. that he can't be the one to give steve comfort. he's constantly growling, rutting against anything that smells even faintly of steve in the UD version of his house, and builds a proper nest for him (despite knowing they're in two separate worlds, he can dream. just in case).
as eddie puts the finishing touches on the nest and groans in satisfaction, he hears steve performing his daily ritual up above. and as usual, he sounds heavenly. eddie can smell the boy's precum, can practically taste his skin, pictures the angelic slide of his measly human hand on that pretty pink cock (it's what he imagines, he's never seen it). he's certain this will finally send his monster over the edge, make him spontaneously combust if he has to hear steve sucking on his own fingers and crying about eddie one more time; so without thinking his hind brain starts flickering all of the lights in steve's house and he shouts:
"“I CAN HEAR YOU HARRINGTON, GODDAMN IT! YOU'RE GOING TO DRIVE ME INSANE! JESUS CHRIST! YOU HAVE TO STOP!"
steve pauses. there are tears in his eyes, a huge smile on his face, and he’s laughing like it's the funniest thing in the world. and god, that's a beautiful sound, too. the sound of his happy chirping human.
"munson? munson, is that really you? oh my god, oh my god! you're alive?" he smells of salty cheeks and lavender; soft and pleasant.
"yeah, it's me," eddie fights to sound normal--doesn't want to accidentally growl and scare him away, "and i've been listening to your 24-hour cum fest for the past three weeks straight. you got something to say for yourself, pretty boy? or just 'oh eddie, oh eddie, right there! feels so good'?" he mimics in a nasaly interpretation of steve’s voice.
steve's laughter rings out through the darkness of the upside down, blows back the tattered curtains on the warped bedroom window, and travels back to eddie's perked ears in a gorgeous tune. sonorous hymn written just for his bleak, forlorn heart. giving it every reason to keep beating.
"okay, okay. quit it. give a guy a damn break," he says, "grief looks different for everyone and mine just happens to look particularly horny when it comes to you."
eddie feels more human than he has in a long time. despite the changes to his body, despite his uncontrollable urges, despite the fucking breeding nest sitting in the corner--steve makes him whole, steve makes him alive, steve makes him feel safe and that's all that matters.
"so you gonna come pick me up from the upside down or what, big boy?" he gazes up at the roof, as if he can actually meet eyes with steve, because maybe--just maybe--some day soon he will, again.
thanks for reading and supporting ! lmk what you think of this one in the comments and feel free to send in a scandalous steddie thought/prompt for me to respond to, of your own.
my inbox is always open and anon asks are more than welcome if that's more comfortable for you :) xoxo !!
oh and if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist at any time for any reason, i'm happy to do so ! just send me a dm or toss it in the comments <3
taglist: @estrellami-1, @disastardly, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @the-redthread, @asbealthgn, @bestofbucky, @vampireinthesun, @carlyv, @shrimply-a-menace, @lordrrascal, @jjoesjonas, @malachitedevil, @anxiouseds
#marissa's asks#steddie prompts#steddie brainrot#kas!eddie#kas!eddie/steve harrington#monster!eddie/steve harrington#eddie x steve#steve x eddie#kas!eddie ficlet#kas!eddie fic#steddie ficlets#steddie fic recs#steddie fic#steddie headcanon#steddie au#steve harrington x eddie munson#eddie munson x steve harrington#stranger things#fruity four#steddie ficlet#steddie is canon#st4#st4 volume 2
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Playing Dress Up
summary: 5 times Mammon saw his human wearing his things.
And the time he saw them wearing nothing at all.
[Fic on AO3]
1.
The first time it happens, it barely registered. There had been so much else going on. Mammon had hardly noticed the sliver of it unfolding in the back of his mind.
"So you're telling me," they paced, "you were okay with the corset, the harnesses, the heels and that," they wave their free hand in his general direction, "that bow tie collar thing but you're drawing the line at the ears and tail!?"
"This," he leans against the railing, letting the Devildom's brightly lit expanse act as a backdrop. He knows his angles. He gestures at himself, "makes me look good. That'll just make me look stupid," and that's just it, isn't it. Even he's self-aware enough to know his main aversion to it comes from not wanting to give his brothers another reason to label him as stupid. "I may not be Lucifer, but even I've gotta bit of pride, ya know," he finishes with a huff.
They've stopped pacing now and are instead considering him with eyes that he knows for a fact can see through all his bullshit. He swallows.
"I don't think you'll look stupid," they say evenly, "I think you'll look good. Like you always do."
Mammon feels the heat creeping up his neck to his cheeks as he splutters, trying desperately to save face, "Y-yeah, well if ya think it'll look so good why don't you put it on!"
They shrug as if them wearing bunny ears will have no world shattering consequences. As if the image of them in bunny ears won't sear itself into his brain for the rest of his life.
They put it on.
His world shatters.
And even then, even as he deals with the staggering realisation that this is what his arousal threshold has been lowered to -who even was he now!? Levi!?-, even as the others finally arrive to drag him back to the club, it blossoms.
Seeing them wearing something that was technically his. Its little tendril uncoiling and latching on to the back of his mind.
Possessiveness.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
2.
The second time it happens is on an especially magical kind of day.
It's midday, and the sky is just a bit lighter than usual. The glow of the plants and surrounding wildlife, however, eclipses this with its stunning brightness.
What makes it all the more magical a day is this. The brothers are getting along, opting to play a game that's a violent mix between human basketball, football and dodgeball rather than trying to seriously kill each other.
Mammon, performing what was probably his first miracle since Falling, had even managed to convince Asmo and Belphie that this was a good use of their time.
His - THE! the human had opted to sit this one out and minimise the risk of getting hit in the head by what was essentially a bowling ball that they had been tossing around at breakneck speeds.
He jumps away with a yelp, narrowly missing a particularly vicious throw by a cackling Asmo. Swearing when his glasses finally give up their battle and slide down his nose, subsequently clattering to the ground. Picking them up, he trots over to where they are sitting next to Lucifer, who had deemed the whole affair too immature for his tastes.
"Here ya go. Keep these safe for me."
They take the glasses easily, without a word of protest, and he jogs back, catching a pass by Satan and lugging it at Beel.
Little later, after successfully getting the ball through the branches of a tall tree and scoring a goal, Mammon turns around, hoping they'd noticed. Instead, he finds them talking to Lucifer, who has finally put down his book. His glasses are planted firmly on their nose.
And.
Oh.
Everything goes dark.
Levi had scored a headshot.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
3.
The third time he doesn't notice it until Asmo leans over and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.
"Oh, Dear Big Brother, did you really think I wouldn't notice it. I'm a little surprised and a little more than a little disappointed," Asmo says with a playful pout, but his eyes are shrewd and calculating as they scan Mammon's face.
"What the fuck are ya talkin' 'bout!" he snaps pushing Asmo back into his seat.
Asmo tilts his head towards where the human is sitting next to the angels and sorcerer during RAD's lunch. "Your little mark of possession." Asmo's eyes are still hard, "Humans aren't just more of your little toys you can just pick up and claim, then toss aside because you got greedy," he says lightly, popping a little berry into his mouth. His sharp canines pierce the tart flesh of it, and he hums sweetly. "This humans of ours is a little more special, don't you think?"
Mammon's frown deepens, turning once more towards them he says, "I have no idea whatya-" he catches a glimpse of yellow around their neck.
Fuck.
Shit.
His whole face is a flush of red as he jumps off his seat, legs catching on it, "Nothin' happened!" he shrieks at Asmo over his shoulder as he marches up to them. Deaf to the protests of the Chihuahua and blind to the knowing smiles of the other angel and Asmo's sorcerer, he grabs the human by the arm and jerks them off their seat, herding them towards the nearest bathroom.
"What are you wearing!" he hisses once the door slams shut behind them.
They stare down at themself. "...RAD's uniform?" They ask slowly.
"Not that! That!" Is his voice getting higher with each word? He couldn't say. He gestures frantically at the yellow fabric wrapped around their neck. His tie.
"Oh? This?" They grab onto the ends of their -his- tie. "I was late, and it was the first one I grabbed," they say with a shrug as Mammon reaches the edges of hyperventilation, "A lot of your things are just in my room. It was an easy mistake."
"EASY MIS-" deep breaths "Do you know what people will say!"
"...about me wearing a tie?"
"About you wearing my tie!"
"Mammon, you barely wear a tie. It shouldn't matter what colour mine is."
"No, you idiot! They'll think we're sleeping together!"
"So?"
"So I don't want anyone to think The Great Mammon would go anywhere near a weak human."
The balled up tie hits his face with a smack, and the door slams shut behind them.
Fuck.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
4.
The camera flashes, and for those few seconds, he's a whole different person.
Someone cool, collected, aloof, charming.
Someone stoic with a soft heart that only love could thaw out.
The mysterious stranger the protagonist of the story would fall for.
Someone way too like Lucifer for his own comfort.
Then the flashing stops, and he walks off the set, and he's back to being Mammon. The goofy screw up of the family. The one who isn't even in the running to be the love interest.
Except.
They're watching him from the edge of the set.
Except.
He doesn't think they ever took their eyes off him.
Except.
They're wrapped up comfortably in his jacket.
Except.
They are beaming at him. Bright and proud.
Except.
They're Proud. Of him.
Except.
He thinks. Maybe. Just maybe.
Except.
This protagonist is falling for him.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
5.
In the year, that had felt more like an eternity, he had spent with them, Mammon slept most nights entwined with them under their sheets. A fact that would have probably raised a few eyebrows and caused more than a few lecherous thoughts if the others had known.
Mammon knew, and they knew, however, that the real reason behind it was a lot more innocent and a lot more, potentially embarrassing. To him at least, the idea that only the presence of a very specific human could soothe a very specific demon's nightmares and overactive brain enough, for said demon to catch even half a night's sleep was a little bit absurd.
And yet.
That is to say, with Mammon's slow move into his human's room a number of his personal items found their home within the walls of the room as well.
And when they eventually left, like they were always meant to and like he forgot they had to, and when he curled up alone on their bed, alone in a room that was bare but for his own possessions he knew he wouldn't be able to empty it. He knew he would never be able to take back what was rightfully his.
So, he thought defensively, it would make perfect sense for him to not notice that something had been missing.
But he did notice it now. A whole year later, when they fell ass first on to Satan.
He noticed it during dinner as his brothers threw away any last shreds of their pride and vied for their attention.
He noticed it in his room, when the burning, itching need for them got too much and he closed his eyes and pulled out all the recent -new- memories of them.
He noticed it when they ordered him to kiss them.
He noticed it when his fingers clung on to the soft, well-worn fabric of his black T-shirt as they pulled him closer.
He stared after their back, at his shirt, as they left. And they had ordered him, hadn't they? The effect of the potion should have been nullified, right?
Then why did he still feel like this.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
+1.
He snuggles in further into the softness that enveloped him. For the first time in a long time, he felt warm and satiated. Had he slept through the night for once?
He moans and burrows deeper into the covers when he feels fingers brush through his fringe. When the fingers continued, seeming to have no plans of stopping anytime soon, he opens an eye to glare at the person next to him. The only reaction he gets in response is his human's dumb smile.
He reaches out a hand from his blanket cocoon to flick at their forehead all the while maintaining an equally dumb smile.
"What's with the look, Dummy."
"You've got the same look, Mammon."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
They snuggle in closer, their entwined legs brushing over each other. Running their fingers over his knuckles, they lean forward to brush a light kiss over his lips.
His face flamed even as his smile grows wider.
"Ya know if you wanna go again-"
"You're wearing my hoodie."
"Wha'?"
They lean up on their elbow and use their other hand to tug at his collar. Their smile stretched into something that could only be described as shit eating.
"You're wearing my hoodie."
They move away just as he jolts upright, tugging at the offending article of clothing to get a better look and sure enough. It's the same over sized purple hoodie they'd been wearing backstage yesterday before the play had started. It slips off one of his bare shoulders, because it is over sized, it's over sized on them, it's over sized on him and it would probably be a comfortable fit on Beel, as he remembers last night.
After the play, and after the festival and after the dance and after...After.
He had climbed off the bed in a giddy daze and grabbed the hoodie from the floor. Because he was greedy and he wanted more, more, more. Even with them in his room, dozing in his bed, even with a whole night of them, even with their scent on his sheets, on his body, he still needed more of them. So he'd slipped the hoodie on and curled back into bed, surrounded by them.
And now.
And now he feels the telltale heat of embarrassment flood his cheeks.
"Was cold," he goes to say, "it was the first thing I could find! Nothin' else."
But before he can, they throw a bare leg over his waist and straddle him. Intertwining their fingers, they pin his hands down by his head, regarding him with a wicked smile.
Who the hell was the demon here anyway.
"Don't," they say with a roll of their hips that has him whining, "I like it." They lean down, their lips brushing his ear before they nip at it.
"You're not the only one who gets a little possessive."
->
[First Posted: 7th August 2020]
[Fic on AO3]
#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me!#shall we date? obey me!#swd obey me#swd obey me!#shall we date obey me#obey me mammon#om! mammon#obey me! mammon#om mammon#swd mammon#shall we date mammon#mammon x mc#mc x mammon#mammon x you#you x mammon#mammon x oc#oc x mammon#mammon x y/n#y/n x mammon#mammon x reader#reader x mammon#mammon x gn!mc#mammon x gender neutral reader#mammon x gn!reader#obey me mc#obey me main character#obey me mammon!#mammon obey me
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